Operation: Avengers Initiative
by The Batchild
Summary: Captain America's awoken and begun adjusting to his life in the 21st century. Quinn is reluctant to leave that bubble of calm, but when a SHIELD base is destroyed, the Tesseract stolen, and Quinn's best friend captured, there is no choice. As the situation escalates, it becomes clear that nothing will be the same again. - Part 7 of the Undisclosed series.
1. Chapter 1

_May 2nd, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—SHIELD Headquarters_

The normally calm SHIELD offices were in chaos when Quinn Scott finally arrived. People were running everywhere, yelling just to be heard over the din… She could see their mouths moving and knew it should be loud, but she could barely hear anything past the rush of blood in her ears. Her mind was firmly locked on Agent Coulson and finding out if he was okay—on finding out what was happening in the Mojave Desert where SHIELD and NASA had been studying the Tesseract; as she rushed to Coulson's office, she realized that Agents Clint Barton and Maria Hill, and possibly Director Fury, would also be at the facility and facing the same danger.

Her heartrate increased—she needed to know what was happening. She went as fast she could, but with the brace on her bad leg, it didn't feel anywhere near fast enough.

"Any word from the desert?" Quinn asked as she passed a high-level agent she knew by face only. He shook his head and continued in the opposite direction. "Fucking hell…" Quinn murmured. "Thanks for nothing." When she reached Coulson's office, she dropped her bag on the floor and sat heavily in the chair. Only then did she realize she didn't really know what to do next; for lack of any other option, she powered up Coulson's computer and then turned on the television on the wall.

Her phone rang just as she was opening Coulson's e-mail.

With more than a little fear bubbling inside, Quinn looked down at her screen.

It was Coulson.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she swiped her thumb across the screen to answer the call. "Coulson, thank God you're all right. What the hell happened? Wait—you are all right, right?"

A weary chuckle floated across the line. _"I'm okay, kid. Shaken, but physically fine. Not… not everyone was so lucky, but most people made it out and Fury's already called in teams to search the rubble for survivors—"_

Panic kicked up in her chest again. "Wait—rubble? Boss, what the fuck happened?"

" _The Tesseract opened a portal, Quinn. Someone came through—possibly an Asgardian named Loki, but I'm not sure, since I was focused on getting all the PEGASUS Phase 2 equipment and research out of there—and brought the place down around us. He got the Tesseract, and Dr. Selvig."_ Coulson cleared his throat and that panic inside Quinn turned back into cold dread. She knew whatever his next words were, they would not be good. _"Kid, this Loki… He got Clint."_

Quinn's brain didn't want to process Coulson's words—she had to have heard him wrong. For a moment, she was completely silent and still, waiting for Coulson to correct himself. When he didn't, she said, "You mean… Clint's…"

" _He's alive,"_ Coulson said quickly, seemingly realizing how his words had been taken. _"But he's been brainwashed. Or something. It's chaos. We're on our way back to New York. The Director has officially reinstated the Avengers Initiative so they can track down Loki and get the Tesseract back, so we need to round up everyone. I've got to call Natasha in from Russia, so she can track down Dr. Banner, and then I've got to go get Stark."_

Quinn's chest was tight, her stomach turning a little. It felt like things were starting to fall apart and her eyes were burning like she wanted to cry. "Do you want me to call Stark?"

" _No. Let me handle Stark. I need you to get a location on Dr. Banner and send it to Natasha so she can head there as soon as she's done in Russia, and then I need you to relocate Dr. Jane Foster. Arrange for her to be moved somewhere out of the way. Somewhere safe. In addition to her connection to Thor and Asgard, she's been studying dark energy with Dr. Selvig. This Loki might go after her."_

Quinn tucked her phone between her shoulder and her ear so she could reach forward and start typing, calling up the surveillance files on Dr. Bruce Banner, also known as the Hulk. "I'm on it, Boss. Anything else?"

" _Stay with Captain Rogers. Fury will approach him, and if he accepts, he can catch the quinjet with us out to the helicarrier."_

"Will do." Quinn was so twisted up inside about the events Coulson had described, about her friend being captured, and about the Avengers Initiative rocketing forward, that she didn't even bother to make a joke about Coulson wanting to share the quinjet with his hero. "I'm in your office now, but have to go home and gear up. I was at the gym with Steve when you called."

Coulson, apparently, had no such issues, but he'd always been the kind of person who tried to lighten the mood. _"'Steve,' huh?"_

Even twisted up as she was, Quinn found herself laughing. A little of the tension lifted. "See you soon, Boss. I'm glad you're okay."

" _Me too, kid. See you."_

Quinn ended the call and then dropped her cell on the desk beside the keyboard, turning her full attention to the surveillance files in front of her. SHIELD had kept tabs on Dr. Bruce Banner since he'd vanished after nearly destroying Harlem in an attempt to stop another genetically mutated solider, codenamed the Abomination. They left him alone, but when someone had that much power… SHIELD wasn't going to let them out of sight. The Hulk, Banner's other self, and the Abomination, had both been created in an attempt to recreate the super solider serum; the first attempt sanctioned, the second not so much, and SHIELD watched for similar events closely. Once she had the location—a remote village in India—Quinn e-mailed the info to Natasha's secure phone, and then set out on her next task.

Dr. Jane Foster was no fan of SHIELD, not since Coulson and his team had confiscated her equipment in Puente Antiguo. They'd given it back and apologized, but that hadn't been enough to ease the anger. However, SHIELD had promised Thor that they'd keep an eye on Jane—and Dr. Selvig—so that's what Quinn was going to do.

Her mind started to wander as she waited for Dr. Foster's files to load. She thought about when she'd met Clint, how he'd taken her under his wing and she immediately became a little sister to him. He'd taught her how to use her favoured throwing knives, and how to shoot a bow, though she wasn't very good at it; they'd gone on missions together, they had each other's back. _Shit._ Quinn ran her hands over her face and back through her hair, still loose and messy from her time at the gym. He couldn't be gone. She would do whatever she could to help get him back. _Shit shit shit._

It didn't take Quinn long to locate Dr. Foster. As she arranged for her to be moved to a SHIELD observatory in Tromsø, Norway, her mind switched to the Norse myths and legends she'd enjoyed reading—up until something out of that world had nearly killed her. If it had been as Asgardian named Loki who came through the Tesseract's portal, then he could be Thor's brother, the god of mischief. That would lead nowhere good, she was sure, but they might bring Thor back to Midgard. She thought about the brief interactions she'd had with the big Asgardian. He'd been kind and warm towards her, surprised she knew Norse mythology and had been ready to believe that he was really a god when everyone else was skeptical. There was part of her that hoped he did come back.

 _As long as no more buildings fall on me._

Quinn finished Jane's reassignment and sent it through, waiting until the mission was assigned to a team and accepted, and agents were dispatched. She loaded up the files on her tablet so she could keep tabs on the progress while she was on the move, and then set about gathering her things; she left all the windows she'd had open up for Coulson. As soon as she had finished her tasks, Quinn's weariness caught up with her and suddenly, she was exhausted and needed to go to bed as soon as possible.

Since it was 2:30 am, she wasn't exactly surprised.

* * *

 _May 2nd, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—Steve's apartment_

For the first time since he'd woken up from the ice, Steve Rogers felt tired.

After Quinn had left the gym, Steve hadn't felt like continuing his work out, and had come back to the apartment, showered, and changed into a clean pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Quinn had said something about the Tesseract and it had sent him into a spiral of thoughts: When had SHIELD found the cube? Why wasn't it locked away? Why were they studying it? What was SHIELD planning? What was Director Fury planning? What was he after? He'd tried to find answers he was satisfied with as he made himself a sandwich, and then he'd sat down to read through more of Agent's Carter's mission files.

He was glad to know that Peggy had had an amazing life after…everything. It broke Steve's heart a little that that life couldn't have been with him—how was someone supposed to cope with coming back to the world and finding out that the life they thought they'd have was gone? But he really was happy for her. Steve had sketched idly as he read, images of Peggy, of Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos, and…Quinn. It surprised him how well her face stuck in his mind, how easy it was to draw her.

As he finished off his latest sketch, Steve heard noise out in the hall, and was on his feet before he'd really thought about it, opening the door and sticking his head into the hall. Quinn was shuffling out of the elevator, her eyes half-closed, her limp pronounced. Her gym bag looked like it was weighing her down. Worry instantly filled Steve's chest.

"Quinn?"

Her head snapped up, as if she was startled. One corner of her mouth twitched, but the smile didn't take over, her tawny eyes missing their usual light. "Steve."

"Are you okay?"

Her shoulders sagged a little as she pulled her keys out of her pocket. "I…don't know." She was having some trouble, so Steve took the bag from her shoulder; she looked at him and smiled wanly. "Thanks, Steve."

"Is Agent Coulson okay?"

"Yeah." She finally got the door open and headed inside, Steve following, his eyes roving over the collections of stuff filling her apartment as they did whenever he visited; he liked the little glimpses into her life, and that she was comfortable enough to display them to him, a relative stranger. "He's fine, but Agent Barton, my friend, my…brother…" Her voice thickened and she dropped onto the end of her bed, tears already visible on her cheeks. She didn't sob, her shoulders didn't shake. "I'm so tired. I can't think straight."

Steve dropped her bag on the floor by the door and stepped towards her, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. "It's okay, Quinn. Get some sleep."

"Director Fury's going to come and talk to you in the morning, I think. Ask you about joining the Avengers Initiative."

"The Avengers?"

"It…might be in the files. I'm not sure."

"I'll look. Go to sleep. Holler if you need anything," he added with a smirk.

For a moment, there was light in Quinn's features again as she chuckled. "I'll be fine. Thanks, Steve."

She smiled up at him, and the last thing he saw before he left her was Quinn falling backwards onto the bed, not even bothering to remove her shoes or her brace.

As he locked Quinn's door and returned to his own apartment, a new worry took root inside—whatever Directory Fury wanted, whatever the Avengers Initiative was, he could almost guarantee that it wasn't good. He returned to the files intent on searching out any mention of the Initiative, but instead, he found himself flipping through Quinn's file again.

There were several mentions of Agent Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. They both worked under Agent Phil Coulson, he'd trained her, and they'd completed several missions together. A letter from Agent Barton was attached to Quinn's file, recommending her for her last promotion that moved her from Level 6 clearance to Level 7. Steve wasn't surprised Quinn was so upset by Agent Barton's capture. She was attached to her team, as Steve had been to the Howling Commandos.

He sighed, and then started searching for any mention of the Avengers Initiative or the Tesseract.

* * *

 _May 2nd, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—SHIELD HQ_

When Quinn saw Coulson later that morning, she didn't say anything, just threw her arms around him and hugged him for a moment. He returned the embrace, pressing a light kiss to her head. "Don't scare me like that, Boss," Quinn said as she stepped back from him. "I'm not sure I can handle it." She forced a laugh.

"I'm not sure I can handle it either, kid." He hooked one arm around her shoulders and gave her another hug before they started for his office; Coulson had come down to the lobby to meet her. "How are things going with the captain?"

"This in reference to me calling him 'Steve,' right? Well, he asked me to call him that, so it means nothing."

"And?"

"Things are going well, I think. He spends a lot of time reading the files, as is to be expected, but he's adjusting to the twenty-first century quickly. Nothing seems to faze him where technology or customs are concerned, though he still dresses like it's 1945." _Which I still really want to tease him about,_ Quinn added silently. "He trusts me, at least as far as not hiding SHIELD things from him goes. He knows I'll tell him what I know. And what I can," she added a second later. She was aware she'd told Steve things she probably shouldn't have, and she also knew Coulson probably wouldn't care, but there was no sense in pushing her luck.

Her mentor raised an eyebrow anyway, probably guessing where her mind was at. "That's good," he finally said. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Quinn snorted out a laugh. "I bet." She looked at her phone. "Director Fury should be talking to him now at the gym. We should get ready to go."

"There's no rush, kid. The quinjet won't go anywhere without us. You're flying it, remember?"

Regardless of that fact, the two agents did speed through their preparations—making sure all the files they would need were uploaded to the server so they could be accessed from the helicarrier, double checking that the Phase 2 crates had made it from the destroyed base to the carrier, and making sure they had everything packed that they might need for however long they were onboard—and were at the hangar, on board the quinjet a full twenty minutes before their scheduled launch. Quinn settled behind the controls and began her pre-flight checks, doing her best to ignore the flutters of anticipation and nerves in her gut; she couldn't help but wonder if Steve had agreed to Fury's proposal, and if he would show up.

"Take a deep breath, Quinn," Coulson said, once she'd started tapping her fingers on the control panel.

"I'm fine. Just anxious to get going." She could have played it off like she was excited to go out to the helicarrier—the massive fortresses were not used often, and Quinn had only been on one while it was on dry land—but she knew Coulson wouldn't buy it. He always saw right through her, and besides, he was probably about as excited as she was about the possibility of Steve joining them. "Did they finish his uniform?"

"Yes. It's onboard the carrier, along with Tony's suit."

"Good."

"Do you think he'll like it?"

"As long as it functions," Quinn said, laughing.

"As long as what functions?"

Something inside Quinn thrilled at the sound of Steve's voice. She climbed out of the pilot's seat, being careful not to hit her braced leg on anything, and moved to stand in the centre of the ship, smiling as Steve climbed the ramp. "You'll see."

He came to a stop a couple feet in front of her and for a heartbeat or two, they just looked at each other. "Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded. "We're on our way to do something about it, so yes. Also, Agent Coulson is in one piece." She gestured to where Coulson stood. "Steve, this is Agent Phil Coulson. Boss, Captain Rogers."

"It's, uh, nice to meet you. I mean, with you actually awake."

Steve smiled and shook Coulson's hand, remaining patient when the handshake went on a few seconds too long. "It's nice to meet you, too. Quinn's told me a lot about you."

"Oh?"

"Nothing bad, Boss. Promise." Quinn grinned before heading back to the controls and fitting herself behind them. She heard Coulson and Steve find their seats, Coulson keeping up a steady stream of chatter the whole time; Quinn grinned again, to herself, because it had been a long time since Coulson had sounded so happy. "Buckle up, boys. It's time to take off."

The quinjet whirred to life beneath her, and though she knew what was coming was bound to be intense and dangerous, Quinn couldn't help but realize just how alive she felt. It had been almost a year since the building had fallen on her, less than six months since she'd gotten the brace from Tony and realized that maybe her old life wasn't out of reach, and she was more than ready to get back to the action, even if she'd be stuck on the helicarrier for it.

It felt good to be doing something, going somewhere for a mission again.


	2. Chapter 2

_May 2nd, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—the quinjet_

"So this Dr. Banner… He turned into that because they were trying to replicate the super soldier serum that made me…well, me?"

Something in Quinn's chest tightened at the guilt in Steve's voice. She wanted to comfort him, but they were technically working and she wasn't entirely sure how to go about it anyway. Also, Coulson was there and she knew she would never hear the end of it. She leaned a little closer to the captain, peering at the tablet in his hands; Agent Coulson had given it to Steve to watch footage about Dr. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, both of whom would be on the helicarrier, called in to help locate the Tesseract. Warmth spread outward from where her arm touched Steve's.

"The army's always wanted to make more of you," Quinn said, "especially since you went into the ice and they couldn't study you anymore."

"There hasn't been an attempt since Dr. Banner's…accident," Coulson said.

Steve's eyebrows rose as he once again watched the footage of the Hulk tearing through Harlem. "I would hope not. Is he… Is he okay?"

"Yeah. When he's not that thing," Coulson said, gesturing at the tablet, currently showing footage of Dr. Banner's destruction of Harlem as he attempted to stop the Abomination, "he's like a regular Stephen Hawking."

"Who?"

Quinn bit off a laugh, her eyes flicking up to meet Coulson's. "A really smart guy," Quinn offered. "Stephen Hawking is a brilliant scientist, as is Dr. Banner. He was the one who designed the experiment that went wrong, and now he travels around, helping where he can, and trying to keep from changing into the big guy. He's going to help us find the Tesseract."

"And Tony Stark?"

"He's… Well, from all I've read, he's a lot like his dad." She smiled at Steve, well aware of Coulson's eyes riveted to the side of her head. "In my personal experience, Tony's a bit annoying, but he's mostly harmless—a good man. He's also brilliant. He built my brace." A beep from the console drew Quinn's attention, and she climbed back into the pilot's seat.

Behind her, Coulson moved closer to Steve and Quinn braced herself for the awkwardness she could sense coming, but she didn't try and stop her boss from saying anything. For one, she knew this was a big moment for Agent Coulson—as big as, if not bigger than, it had been for her to meet Captain America—and for another thing, there was a part of Quinn that wanted to see how Steve would handle it. A very small part of her wanted to see her boss, normally so composed, make a bit of a fool of himself, too.

"I have to say, it really is an honour to meet you. Officially."

 _Oh Lord,_ Quinn thought to herself, a small grin working its way over her lips. _This is going to go so well._

"I sort of met you before. I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

Quinn barely supressed the laugh that bubbled up, and ended up snorting; she fixed her eyes resolutely out the window, studying the approaching shape of the helicarrier floating on the water, looking for all the world like a regular aircraft carrier. She heard movement, and then felt a presence behind her. She knew without looking that it was Steve, towering above her seat. It was comforting.

"I mean, I was present while you were unconscious. Briefly. Agent Scott was there the whole time, but I checked in." Coulson coughed. "It's just—it's really an honour to have you on board for this mission."

Steve cleared his throat and Quinn looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a small smile. "Well," he said, "I hope I'm the man for the job. This is all still so new."

"Oh, you are the man for the job. Absolutely." Quinn snort-laughed again and could have sworn she felt Coulson's glare boring into the back of her skull. "We've made some modifications to the uniform, but you'll have a chance to look it over beforehand. I, uh, had some design input."

"The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little old fashioned?"

"Should fit right in then," Quinn said with a glance at the button-down shirt and trousers—there was no other word for them—that Steve had chosen. He was dressed like a man four times his age, which made perfect sense, but was still a great source of amusement for Quinn. She found that she missed seeing him in the jeans and more casual clothes he'd worn at the cabin. Steve narrowed his eyes, but one corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Besides," Coulson said, "with the way things are and the things that might come to light, people might need a little old fashioned."

"I could use an old fashioned."

"It's not even noon yet, Quinn."

"And?" Steve chuckled, which was what Quinn had been going for. "I'll hunt down some booze later. Right now—" her hands flew over the controls, preparing the quinjet for landing as the helicarrier loomed in front of them "—it's time to set this bird down." As she brought the craft in, Quinn spotted Natasha's red hair on the flight deck and she was glad to know her friend was already on board. She hadn't seen or spoken to Nat since learning that Clint had been taken, and she knew the assassin would be worried about her partner, her friend. "Hold on," she told her passengers.

There was just a small jolt as the landing gear hit the tarmac, everything inside shaking slightly. The flight deck crew swarmed in from the edges of the carrier, moved and secured the quinjet in place while the ramp opened, allowing Quinn, Coulson, and Steve to exit. Quinn pushed ahead of the others, her leg twinging as she put her arms around Nat; it was an uncharacteristic display, but Natasha was worked up enough about the situation to return the quick embrace.

"We'll get him back," Quinn said.

Natasha nodded once. "I know we will." Her eyes darted to Steve, and then back to Quinn, a knowing grin taking over her face.

"Captain Rogers, Agent Natasha Romanoff," Quinn said by way of introduction.

Steve dipped his chin. "Ma'am."

Natasha's grin only grew, amusement dancing in her eyes. "There was quite the buzz around here—especially from these two—when you were found in the ice. Coulson swooned, Quinn never left the office… Did they ask you to sign their Captain America trading cards and comics yet?"

"Quinn."

She drew herself away from the conversation reluctantly and turned to Coulson. "Yeah, Boss?"

"The captain is needed on the bridge, with Dr. Banner and Natasha. Fury wants you to head down to inventory the Phase 2 crates transported from the research facility. We lost a lot and he wants to know what the recovery teams need to be looking for, and what we still have."

Quinn closed her eyes so she wouldn't roll them. She'd been expecting light duty work, but she'd been hoping for a bridge assignment or something at least more exciting than inventory. Something closer to the action. "I'll get right on it, Boss."

"Also, keep an eye on Dr. Foster's status."

"Will do, Boss."

Coulson's gaze softened and he reached forward to squeeze her shoulder. "I know you probably wanted more, kid."

"Yeah, but…it's still good to be back in the field." _Focus on the good stuff,_ she told herself.

His expression told Quinn he didn't exactly believe her, but there was no time to discuss it further. "You know where your bunk is—your uniform is there."

She felt an absurd amount of happiness at the notion of putting on her blue SHIELD jumpsuit and shiny black boots for the first time since the accident. It would be so much better than wearing the suits that were the dress code in the SHIELD offices. The smile she gave Coulson then was genuine. "I guess you'll know where to find me then, if I'm needed for anything else."

"Indeed." Coulson's expression shifted from business to friendship and Quinn was sure she knew what was coming. "So things seem good between you and…the captain."

"Oh, shut up." Quinn did roll her eyes this time, but she was smiling. She laughed a bit as she headed back to where Steve was currently speaking to Dr. Banner, who was wringing his hands, scanning the activity around him restlessly. She opened her mouth to say something, but the helicarrier rumbled beneath them.

"Gentlemen," Natasha said, "you may want to step inside. It's about to get a little difficult to breathe out here."

Steve looked from Natasha, to Quinn, to the rush of activity around him. "Is this a submarine?"

Dr. Banner scoffed. "Really? You guys want to put me in a pressurized metal container?" Quinn pointed to the water, where the propellers were breaching the surface, preparing to spin to life, and the doctor and Steve poked their heads over the side. "Oh no," Banner said as he realized what was happening. "This is much worse."

"This thing flies?" Steve asked, moving to stand next to Quinn.

The awe in his voice made her smile. She grinned. "Sure does. I wanted to see the look on your face when you found out," she said, answering his unasked, _Why didn't you tell me?_ "Come on. Let's get you down to the bridge."

* * *

 _May 2nd, 2012  
_ _Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Agent Scott's quarters_

The bunks on the helicarrier were small, cramped even, but Quinn stood in the middle of hers with a smile on her face. In front of her were the bunk beds; behind her, a small dresser attached to the wall. A screen was embedded in the wall above the dresser, ready to relay information and orders, and currently displaying a schematic of the helicarrier. The upper bunk was unoccupied, and folded on the bottom bed, sitting beside Quinn's bag, was her blue jumpsuit. Her boots were tucked under the bed, just visible.

Still smiling, Quinn freed her hair from the messy bun she'd thrown it in that morning, and stripped down, taking the usual care while disengaging her brace. She rarely noticed the electrical current anymore, but there was always a spark when it was removed—it didn't hurt, but she thought she'd never be fully used to the feeling. After sitting down to work her legs into the tight suit, Quinn stood up, putting weight gingerly on her bad leg—a habit she also feared she'd never break—and working the suit up her body. As she zipped it up, she felt it conform to her shape. She pulled her boots on and then repositioned her brace, surprised to find no obstruction to its function from the nearly knee-high boots. Quinn belted her gun holster in place, around her hips and thigh, and then positioned her belt of throwing knives as well. Once her hair was rebraided down her back, Quinn sighed, something inside loosening.

She felt content, despite the potential danger they were flying into. She felt more like herself then she had since waking up in the hospital, broken and bruised.

Too bad she had only a moment to enjoy it.

Quinn grabbed her tablet, filled with the inventory lists and connected to the server she'd need to keep an eye on Jane Foster. Just as she was about to step into the hallway however, someone knocked on the door.

For the second time that day, she knew Steve's presence without seeing the man.

She opened the door, beaming. "Hey there, Captain."

His gaze slid over her and Quinn fought the urge to pose like an idiot. "You look…taller."

Quinn scoffed, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her; she would have invited Steve in, but he would have filled the room and Quinn wasn't prepared for that. "That'd be nice, but these boots don't have that much of a heel." Steve raised an eyebrow and the high-wattage smile returned to Quinn's face. "I do feel taller though. It feels…great to be back in my uniform."

"I imagine I'll be experiencing something similar soon."

She cocked her head to one side at the apprehension in Steve's voice. "Are you not looking forward to it?"

Steve started walking and Quinn fell in step beside him, her tablet clutched in front of her. "I don't know what I'm feeling, to be honest. I'm a soldier and having a purpose is…good, but the Tesseract…"

"It scares me," Quinn said when Steve fell silent.

"Do you know what SHIELD wants with it?"

"Nope. I mean, I can guess—the energy potential of the thing is off the charts, after all—but all I know for sure is what's on here," she said, lifting her tablet. "And all I'm allowed to know are the numbers of the crates. I don't even get to know what's inside."

"Aren't you curious?"

"Always, but not enough to risk my job or piss off Director Fury. At least not about this."

"I can't say I blame you there. He's…got quite the presence." Steve still seemed uneasy and Quinn watched him shift about as much as he could while they meandered down the hall: hands in the pockets of his coat, then in his trouser pockets, then hanging at his sides; shoulders rolled, flexed; neck cracked, first on one side than the other. "This all feels so familiar, but at the same time, impossibly strange."

Quinn reached over to squeeze Steve's arm. "For what it's worth, I can't believe how well and how fast you're adjusting."

"Did you expect floundering?"

Quinn smirked. "Maybe a little, but if there is any, you've hid it very well." They shared a small smile, one Quinn didn't think she'd seen him give anyone else. It was almost a tender expression. "I'm sorry you'll have to delay seeing Peggy," she said quietly.

When he smiled at her again, it was with great sadness in his eyes; it was enough to bring Quinn and then Steve to a stop. "Seeing her was an unexpected chance, Quinn. I can wait a little longer. After all, I didn't have to agree to this mission."

"No, I suppose not. I still feel bad, though. I know you were looking forward to it." Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm again and this time, she left it there. "As soon as we get back, I promise I'll get you to see her. I'll call from the helicarrier as soon—"

"Quinn. You can wait until we're back in New York. Who knows how long this will take?"

She scrunched up her face. "Okay. If you're sure." After a brief pause, Quinn asked, "What did you come to find me for? Or was it just to chat?"

A slight flush bloomed on Steve's cheeks; Quinn smiled in response. "I…need help finding my bunk."

The smile broke into laughter and she started walking again, leading the way.

* * *

 _May 2nd, 2012  
_ _Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Captain America's quarters_

The strange feeling didn't leave Steve, even after he was as settled as he could be in the quarters provided on board the helicarrier. He hadn't lied when he told Quinn the situation was familiar: the activity, the discipline, the singular purpose driving everyone… Steve knew what to do with that. What he didn't know how to deal with was the fact that he was standing on a _flying_ and _invisible_ aircraft carrier, that he was sharing the space with a man who could turn into a giant green beast, the son of the man who had more or less created him, and a bunch of spies.

What he didn't know how to deal with, was the SHIELD agent currently perched on the edge of the small bed, fingers flying over the tablet in her lap. The small furrow in her brow that he'd first noticed at the cabin was back, her lips slightly pursed as she concentrated, her braid dangling over one shoulder. Being around Quinn provided some modicum of stability, which he attributed to her being his handler and to being there from the moment he'd awoken. He'd gone in search of her the minute he was left to his own devices, and he didn't fully understand the impulse to share his thoughts and feelings with her, but he wasn't about to fight it. From what he could tell, she hadn't told anyone anything he'd said, and had shared nothing of their time at the cabin. Steve was pretty sure he could trust Quinn.

She was the only one he was sure of.

Quinn looked up when Steve stopped beside the bed, her brow smoothing, her mouth curving into a smile. "Well?"

"Small but serviceable."

She cast her tawny eyes around. "You've got more space than I do. If I'd let you into my bunk, neither of us would have been able to move." Her nose and mouth bunched up, but then she was beaming at him again. "But that's probably why you've got all the space, and why you've got it to yourself. You, Cap, are one of the stars of this mission, and I am naught but an agent. One of many," she said, bringing her hand to her chest in a dramatic flourish.

Steve chuckled. He knew she had to get to work, but he was loath to leave her company. "Where are you headed for inventory?"

"The lowest levels where they keep all the cargo." Quinn rose from the bed, wincing slightly as her weight settled on her bad leg. She tried to hide the reaction, but Steve still caught it. "Want to walk with me? Or do you have to go back to the bridge?"

"Are you okay?"

He thought she might wave off his concern, but she let his hands settled on her shoulders, maybe even leaned into him a bit. "I'm fine. Still a bit sore from my fall, is all." Quinn turned and opened the door, her shoulders rising and falling as she inhaled deeply and exhaled slow. "Let's walk. I'll show you where your suit are shield are being kept."

"My shield?" he asked as the door slid shut behind him. "My actual shield?"

"Your actual shield. It was found in the ice with you. Can't believe no one has shown it to you yet."

"I can't believe _you_ haven't shown it to me yet."

She bunched up her face again, this time around a smile. "Shut up."

They walked for a few minutes, with Quinn chatting idly about the helicarrier and what she thought Stark and Banner would do to help them find the Tesseract. Steve watched her as they moved, noticing the slight limp she'd adopted to keep weight off her braced leg, and he thought she might be rambling a bit to keep her mind off the pain. He wished there was more he could do for her.

Eventually, they came to a stop outside what, according to Quinn's tablet, was one of the largest cargo bays. With what Steve was beginning to realize was a trademark smirk, Quinn opened the door and led the way to a large gunmetal-coloured crate. She typed in a code and the panels of the crate slid open, revealing a bright red, white, and blue suit and the iconic shield Steve had carried throughout the war. Something in his chest tightened upon seeing it, and it felt like something clicking into place. He wanted to touch it, hold it again. Feel its weight on his arm. The emotion must have shown on his face, because when he looked to Quinn again, he found her gazing at him, a softness in her tawny eyes.

"Welcome back, Cap," she said.

"Don't say that yet. I haven't tried it on. What if it doesn't fit?"

Her eyes slid over him quickly; if he wasn't who he was, or if he hadn't been staring right at her, he might have missed it. A tinge of colour touched her cheeks as she grinned. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

Steve felt himself blush, his eyes immediately dropping. Part of him expected a quip from Quinn, but instead she shifted closer to him and bumped his arm with her shoulder.

After a few heartbeats of silence, in which Quinn probably guessed he was trying to work himself up to putting on the uniform and once again shoulder the burdens that came with it, and then she asked, "Can I hold the shield?" in a soft voice. A voice that reminded Steve she was a fan and was likely supressing her excitement to make him more comfortable.

While he wasn't sure what to think about that, he found himself smiling anyway—Quinn had proven herself singularly talented in making him smile—and said, "Sure."


	3. Chapter 3

_May 3rd, 2012  
_ _Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Secure Storage 5-A_

"It's lighter than I thought it'd be, even knowing what it's made of." Quinn hefted her left arm, tightening her hand around the straps on the back of the shield; she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. She mimicked a few of the moves she'd seen Steve do in the war footage, which brought a smile to Steve's face. "How do I look?" she asked, striking a pose—back straight, shoulders back, shield out in front, right hand brought to her brow in a salute. Not quite perfect, but good enough.

Steve's smile turned into something quieter but with no less emotion. "You look great."

Quinn blushed and felt the heat spread down her neck and across her chest. She knew her ears would be red too. Her eyes dropped for a fraction of a second before she looked back up at Steve, whose cheeks were also a little red. "You should probably get changed," she said after a moment spent gathering her wits about her. "I imagine it won't be much longer until the sciencey ones upstairs find some sign of the Tesseract or the Asgardian who stole it—Loki—and you'll have to rush off and save the day."

"Do you have experience with Asgardians beyond Puente Antiguo?" Steve asked as Quinn disengaged her arm from the shield and handed it to him.

The fact that Asgardians had been behind her accident and the destruction of the small New Mexico town wasn't technically within Steve's clearance, but Quinn had told him all about it after he'd seen her accident report and read her file. "No. I don't necessarily want any either. I mean, Thor's a good dude, but they kind of scare me a little bit. Fascinate me—I've got a thing for reading about mythology—"

"I know. I saw the books."

Quinn gave Steve a look, one eyebrow jumping up as she pressed her lips together. "Anyway, as I was going to say, they fascinate me but also scare me, and Loki… Well, I don't want to have any more experience with him."

She said no more about it, but tried not to dwell on her last encounter with Asgardians and their technology as she took Captain America's uniform out of the container. Steve took it from her, his eyes searching her face, but she kept her expression bright, hiding the painful memories; he'd read her file and could probably guess where her mind was going anyway. It had been a while since thinking about Puente Antiguo had made her scared, but with Loki on Earth and the threat of seeing him hanging the air, Quinn wasn't exactly surprise by the turn her emotions had taken.

"Can you find your way back to your bunk okay?" she asked.

"I think so."

She forced another smile at Steve. "Well, I'll be down here somewhere if you need me. You can page my tablet," she said, lifting the device from its place against her right thigh. "Any other tablet, computer, or the screen in your bunk can reach it. Just search for my name."

Steve nodded. "Quinn—"

"And be careful, Steve, if you do end up fighting Loki. Asgardians are no joke." Without conscious thought, Quinn's hand dropped to her leg, fingers tracing the familiar patterns of her scars. When she realized when she was doing, she clasped it around her tablet, holding the device in front of her. "I'll see you later, Steve." She smiled at him as she walked past, leaving him standing in the middle of the cargo bay. For some reason, her cheeks flushed again as he watched her go.

Butterflies stirred to life in her chest as she entered the corridor, another feeling she hadn't had in a long time. There'd been a hint of it when Steve helped her after her fall in the shower—her fingertips brushed the faint mark left on her cheek from that incident—but she hadn't felt it at any real strength since she and Trip had started their romantic relationship years before. She wasn't really falling for Steve, was she? It was just because he was Captain America, a man she'd learned about and admired her whole life, because he'd helped her, and because they'd spent a lot of time together since he'd woken up. She _couldn't_ be falling for Steve, and more importantly, she _shouldn't_. She was his handler, his connection to SHIELD and the twenty-first century. She was the first person he'd truly interacted with after waking up. She should keep her distance; she would have said she should keep things professional, but there'd never really been any hope of that. That was part of the reason she'd been chosen for the job.

Quinn sighed as she keyed in the code for Secure Storage 7-A, and once inside, she dropped onto the nearest crate, her tablet in her lap. _There are more important things to think about,_ she told herself. _Just focus on getting through this, on getting back to 100%. Active duty. That's the goal. That's always been the goal._ With another sigh, she got to her feet and brought up the lists she needed on her tablet so she could get to work.

It was about forty minutes before her tablet pinged, a message taking over the whole screen, warning the helicarrier staff that their target had been located, and a team was being dispatched to Stuttgart, Germany. No specifics, of course, since not everyone's security clearance was high enough, but enough information to let everyone know the mission was progressing and to put everyone on alert.

Since Secure Storage 7-A was beside the quinjet launch bay, she could see the jet being prepped through the windows. The launch bay was partially taken over by more crates—there had been a lot of stuff stored in the desert base, apparently—and her view was obstructed, but she was still able to see Black Widow and Captain America striding across to the waiting quinjet, and the flight crew backing off as they finished their final checks. Quinn registered Natasha's presence, and that her friend was wearing her Black Widow suit instead of the jeans and t-shirt she'd been wearing earlier, but her eyes, her attention, were mostly for Steve, decked out in his red, white, and blue with his shield on his back and the hood pooled around his neck.

He looked good— _great._

 _Pull it together,_ Quinn mentally snapped.

She forced herself to turn back to her work, to focus on her task. It killed a part of her to not know what was going on with the mission, to not be involved in some way, but she knew Director Fury would turn her away if she tried to involve herself. She was on light duty, and the bridge was not light duty. Quinn knew she was stuck doing inventory, but she also knew that being away from Steve for the first time since he'd come out of the ice was going to be difficult for her.

"Damn it," she muttered as she pulled her gaze from the window and the rapidly shrinking quinjet.

* * *

 _May 3rd, 2012  
_ _Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Secure Storage 7-A_

"You hungry yet, kid?"

Quinn started at Coulson's voice and turned to watch him walk across the cargo bay towards her, her spine popping as she straightened and her bad leg protesting. Her head was getting fuzzy from reading so many tiny numbers and looking at so many barcodes, and only at the concerned look on Coulson's face did she realize she hadn't looked up or paused since she'd started working hours ago. She dropped her tablet on top of a nearby crate and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Starving, actually, but I've got lots to do. I'll grab something soon, Boss."

"The mission went well, Quinn. They're on their way back."

Quinn blinked. She had been working a long time. "I—"

"I know you're thinking about it. And you'd be thinking about it regardless of who was on it. This is the first step in getting Barton back, in getting the Tesseract back." Coulson leaned against the crate beside Quinn and crossed his arms over his chest. Tightly. He was as tense as Quinn. "How are you progressing?"

Quinn sighed. "This room is almost done, and then I'll hit up the bays on this floor where stuff from the desert ended up before moving on to the next main cargo bay. Not much unaccounted for so far."

"Good. Director Fury will be pleased." Coulson watched Quinn for a moment, and she braced herself for whatever news he was holding back; the barely suppressed grin he was giving her meant only one thing. "Nat and the Captain picked up a couple strays during the mission."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Did they get Barton as well as Loki? Why didn't you—"

"Not Barton; he got away with some iridium, which is what they were after. Mr. Stark made an appearance in Stuttgart, apparently reconsidering the chat I had with him, and after they managed to subdue Loki, our other Asgardian friend showed up."

Something in her chest tightened. "Thor?"

"Yeah. He wasn't too happy about us taking his brother, but he's agreed to help as long as we're all after the same thing. Seems he's been searching for Loki since just after our adventure in New Mexico."

Quinn fell silent, the feeling in her chest growing. It took her a few moments to realize it was more fear. She didn't like that her automatic association with Asgardians of any kind was to remember the Destroyer tearing its way through tiny Puente Antiguo in its quest to get to Thor, to remember trying to get out of the way of its beam, the sound of it tearing through the brick and mortar of the building beneath her—the heat, the fear, the crush of the rubble on top of her, the blackness, the—

"Quinn."

Coulson was holding her arm, squeezing gently. His eyes were wide with concern, and he'd moved closer.

She ran a hand over her face and back over her hair. "I'm fine—I'm good."

"Are you sure? It's been a while since you had an episode like that."

"Well it's not like coming face to face with an Asgardian has been on the docket before now, is it?" she snapped. "Sorry."

"There's no reason to apologize." Coulson let go of her arm and rubbed her back instead, squeezing her shoulder before pulling his hand away and rising from the crate. He straightened his suit jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Come on. Let's go wait for them in the launch bay. You need a break."

"But—"

"There's lots of work, yes, but it can wait for a bit."

Quinn smiled and nodded, feeling, as she always did, touched when Coulson displayed his affection for her. She slipped an arm around her boss and gave him a one-armed hug as they headed for the hall, returning her tablet to its holder on her leg with her other hand. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

The launch bay was colder than the rest of the helicarrier, so Quinn remained close to Coulson and the warmth he could provide. There were already several heavily armed and armoured SHIELD agents waiting, ready to take Loki into custody and secure him in the cell that had been made to contain the Hulk, Dr. Banner's other side; if any place could hold the Asgardian, that would be it. Even though they waited for close to thirty minutes, the waiting agents barely moved. Right before the quinjet pulled up to the helicarrier, Director Fury entered the bay and waited, arms crossed and face completely expressionless, his long black coat blowing the wind. Quinn tried to be the same, cool and collected, but she couldn't deny the emotions swirling in her gut, and she definitely could not keep them from showing in her tawny eyes.

When the jet touched down, it kicked up a swirl of icy air, and the thunk of the ramp hitting the floor seemed louder than it should have. Natasha was the first one out, followed by Tony Stark, still wearing the Iron Man armour with his helmet tucked under his arm, and then Steve and Thor leading a manacled and smiling man dressed in black and green and gold—Loki. Quinn shuddered at the look on the Asgardian's face, and the fear and anger that had been bubbling inside her rose—he was the one who had sent the Destroyer to Earth, causing the destruction of Puente Antiguo and nearly killing Quinn. He was the one responsible. As if sensing the train of her thoughts, Coulson's hand tightened on her arm, keeping her in place. When Loki's roving eyes scanned Quinn and took in her expression, he smiled wider, and Coulson squeezed her arm harder.

The launch bay remained silent as the agents and Director Fury took Loki from Captain America and Thor and disappeared into the corridor, heading for the cell. Tony nodded to Coulson and Quinn and then disappeared as well, probably to remove and store his armour; Natasha went with him.

"Agent Coulson, Agent Scott," Thor greeted as he approached. The brightness and optimism Quinn had seen on his face in New Mexico was gone, or hidden behind the blank mask he was currently wearing. In his armour and red cape though, he looked every inch the prince of Asgard. His eyes landed on Quinn's brace and his brow furrowed, a lock of his blond hair falling across his face. "What happened to your leg, Agent Scott?"

"I, uh…" Quinn's eyes flicked from Coulson, who was still close by, a comforting presence, to Steve, where he stood behind Thor's shoulder. When she met Thor's gaze, she tried to smile, but she had to force it. "The Destroyer's beam hit a building I was in, and, well… it came down on top of me. Crushed my leg and nearly crushed me too."

Thor's eyes widened. "I… I am sorry, Agent Scott. That would not have happened to you if not for me."

"It's not your fault," she said quickly, waving away the apology. "If it's anyone's fault, it's Loki's." The words came out harsher than she'd meant them to, but she couldn't take it back. She meant it.

For a second, it looked like Thor would protest, but he just dropped his eyes to the ground and nodded, one corner of his mouth twitching. "I am still sorry for the pain you had to endure, and I hope you are recovering well." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"It's, uh…"

Coulson cleared his throat and Thor turned to face him. "It is good to see you again, Son of Coul."

"It's good to see you as well." Coulson clapped Thor on the shoulder, turning him towards the corridor, subtly pulling him away from Quinn. "Let me take you up to the bridge. I imagine the director will want to debrief everyone soon, and he'll be interested in whatever information you can give us about Loki."

Quinn stood still, watching Coulson and Thor disappear, the forced smile still plastered on her face, her gut still turning. It wasn't until Steve's tentative touch on her shoulder made her jump that she realized her hands were balled into fists and her jaw was clenched. She exhaled a long, shaking breath and sagged slightly into Steve's hand, her anger and fear vanishing in a rush. She wanted to lie down or maybe drink half a bottle of scotch. Or both.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, the same concern in his voice that he'd displayed the day before when she'd nearly passed out in the hallway.

"I… I wasn't prepared for what I'd feel when I saw Thor again, and Loki. I've never actually seen Loki before, but… I knew it was him who'd sent the Destroyer. Thor confirmed as much to Coulson before he went back to Asgard last year. I just…" She exhaled another breath and closed her eyes, placing one hand on her stomach and pressing against her diaphragm. "Sorry—I'm rambling."

Steve's hand slid to the back of her neck, the material of his gloves cold, but the pressure of his fingers comforting. "Let's get out of the cold."

Quinn snorted. "Like you can feel it."

But she didn't fight when Steve led her out of the launch bay and into the much warmer corridor. They walked for a few moments in silence, Steve's hand sliding along her shoulder and down her arm. For a heartbeat, Quinn thought—hoped—he was going to take her hand, but he didn't, and she mentally slapped herself. _It's just because you're freaking out a bit,_ she told herself. _You just want the comfort._

"Quinn?"

She blinked, realizing Steve must have said something to her and she didn't respond. "Sorry—what?"

"I asked if you'd mind taking me to the bridge."

"Of course not," she said, though she didn't believe he was lost for one second. She did appreciate the gesture though, giving her something to do and not leaving her alone to stew over the turmoil of emotions. Quinn bumped her shoulder against Steve's arm. "How did it feel to be out in the field again?"

"Like riding a bike." He frowned. "It was weird being back in Germany."

"Oh, God. I didn't even think about that—"

He waved her concern away, though there was still a bit of a far-off look in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Quinn. It was just a lot so soon after being back, and seeing it… whole."

Damning all her thoughts of keeping her distance—at least for the time being—Quinn reached out and gave Steve's hand a squeeze, perhaps holding it too long. "Uh, part of my job, or, well… I guess it could be part of my job, if you wanted to talk about it with someone who's not a psychologist or something." She shrugged with one shoulder. "I'm here, is all."

They reached the lift that would take them up to the bridge, and stepped inside, the doors closing silently. Quinn leaned on the support bar, her fingers wrapping around it, and, across the elevator, Steve mirrored her. She could feel his eyes on her, and when she looked up, he was smiling at her.

"Thanks, Quinn. And… you could talk to me about your accident, if you want."

Something in Quinn's chest squeezed, and she tightened her grip on the bar, bunching her shoulders up as she blushed again, attempting to hide it, and wondering, idly, if the bluish lights in the elevator made her skin look purple. "I might take you up on that offer after this is all over."

The elevator reached the bridge and the doors opened, revealing a flurry of activity set against the blue-black night sky outside, and cutting off any further conversation.


	4. Chapter 4

_May 3rd, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Bridge_

"Everyone looks so serious. Almost… scared," Quinn muttered as they stepped onto the bridge.

Steve nodded. She was right. The mood over the bridge was tense, as if everyone was braced for what might happen next, but no one was really sure what it was. He didn't know how many people actually knew they had an Asgardian in prison on the helicarrier, but people were definitely picking up on the apprehension hanging over their bosses and those gathered around the table near the elevator.

Quinn stumbled as she took another step, and Steve caught her elbow to stop her from falling. "Fuck," she muttered, reaching down to rub her braced leg.

"Quinn?"

"It's nothing. Just overworked it again." She tried to smile, but it came out more a wince.

With the barest touch at the small of her back, Steve guided Quinn from the elevator to the table, where everyone except Tony Stark seemed to be sitting. He knew Quinn would resist if he suggested sitting, but he saw the relief in her face and in the drop of her shoulders when the weight was off her bad leg and knew she was glad to be sitting. Steve felt confident she hadn't stopped working since she'd left him in the cargo bay earlier; he'd seen her under stress—like when she got the call from Agent Coulson the day before—and she worked to get through it. And this was a situation where everyone, except maybe Loki, was stressed.

When Quinn met his gaze and cocked one eyebrow, Steve realized he was watching her closely and looked away.

Sometimes, Steve thought he could see something of Colonel Phillips in Quinn's face, some line that appeared when she frowned or glared, or when she furrowed her brow like she was now. That was appropriate, he supposed. Steve had never seen the colonel smile, and he'd spent a good deal of time frowning.

No one around the table was smiling then, either. Natasha stood to one side, arms crossed and face stoic. Across the table, Dr. Banner looked like he was trying to disappear into the chair. The other Asgardian, Thor, stood a little farther back from the table, arms also crossed but face creased with frustration and anger. Steve had no desire to go toe-to-toe with Thor and his lightning again, and he didn't envy Loki whatever emotion he'd be on the receiving end of from the big man. Steve's arm was still buzzing from when Thor's hammer had made contact with his shield, and there wasn't much that left an impression like that on Steve.

The surface of the table flickered to life then, displaying camera footage in front of each seat, drawing everyone's eyes. Thor flinched at the sound of his brother's voice, egging on Director Fury, and Quinn's eyes darted to him. She'd been on edge since the Asgardians had stepped off the quinjet, attuned to the movements and voices of Thor and Loki. Something Steve thought might be concern crossed her features, but she pulled her gaze back to the screen and focused almost instantly, her brows knitting together again.

Loki stood a foot or so back from the wall of the circular cell, his stance nonchalant, his face amused. Below him, the bay doors were closing, sealing off the view of the world far, far below.

" _It's an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me,"_ Loki said once the doors had clicked into place. His expression was smug, as it had been since he'd arrived on the helicarrier. He was up to something.

" _Built for something a lot stronger than you."_

" _Oh, I've heard."_ His eyes snapped up to look directly in the camera, and Dr. Banner started, his leg hitting the table. _"A mindless beast, playing that he's still a man. How desperate are you that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"_

" _How desperate am I?"_ Fury stepped forward, still calm and in control; Steve was impressed. _"You threaten my world with war, you steal a force you can't hope to control… You talk about peace and you kill because it's fun."_ Even on the small screen, Steve could see the director's good eye narrow as he leaned in. _"You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad you did."_

Loki responded, saying something about a warm light for all mankind, but at that moment, Quinn got up and walked across the bridge to stand with Agent Hill near the helm, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. The other agent moved close enough for their shoulders to touch. She said something to Agent Hill and then headed towards the elevator, her eyes briefly locking with Steve's before the doors closed. She was uncomfortable, scared. Steve wanted to go to her, but before he could move, she was already gone.

Dr. Banner huffed, and Steve turned back to the table. "He really grows on you, doesn't he?"

"Loki's going to drag this out. He's up to something," Steve said, bringing all of his attention back to the matter at hand. Quinn could take care of herself, and stopping Loki, figuring out his plans, that was what he'd been brought here for. "So, Thor, what's his play?"

* * *

 _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Agent Scott's quarters_

"Kid, are you sure you're okay?"

Quinn looked up at Coulson. She hadn't even realized she'd sat down on her bed. After leaving the bridge, Quinn had returned to her quarters, downed two glasses of water, and taken all the solace in the privacy of her quarters that she could afford; she still had work to do, after all. Coulson had shown up a few minutes later, presumably after getting the message Quinn had left with Hill, and automatically fallen into what Quinn liked to think of as Dad Mode.

Quinn's thoughts were spinning, and her shoulders had grown more tense with each word Loki had spoken. He was smug, he thought he was still in control, and Quinn couldn't help picturing another Destroyer touching down on the helicarrier, the orange-yellow beam of energy slicing through everything until everyone was dead and floating in the ocean. She was scared, like she hadn't been since that day in Puente Antiguo, and she wanted this to all be over. She wanted to go back to the cabin in the woods with Steve. She wanted to go back to her apartment, the retro gym, her office in New York. As much as she'd wanted to be back in the field and back on active duty, she had not been prepared for flashbacks to the worst time of her life.

"I'm…" She wanted to say _fine_ , but it wasn't true, and Coulson would know she was lying. "I will be fine, Boss. I just… I didn't think we'd have to deal with him again. I didn't think we'd ever see any Asgardian again."

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't either."

"Hm, strangely, no, that doesn't make me feel any better." Quinn managed a small smile and leaned into Coulson's touch when he reached down and squeezed her shoulder. After a second, she pushed herself to her feet and smoothed wayward strands of her dark brown hair back from her face. "I'd better get back to work. Those crates aren't going to catalogue themselves."

"Okay, but don't forget to eat this time. And get some rest. It's getting late."

"I promise, Boss."

"If you ask nicely, maybe I'll even send the captain down to check on you."

Features bunched in false annoyance, Quinn slapped Coulson's shoulder as they walked into the hall. She smiled at him as they headed in different directions, part of her wanting to go with him, back to the bridge. She might have been on edge, but she still did still want to be in the thick of it. It wasn't like she would be able to get any sleep anyway, not with everything that was going on. Almost as if it could sense her thoughts, her braced leg sent a twinge of pain through her hip and up her spine. It wasn't enough to stop her from walking, but it was close. Quinn made it back to the secure storage wing and headed for the next room on her list, Secure Storage 10-C, and sunk back into her routine, stopping only to stretch out her leg.

Quinn was perched on top of one of the crates, picking at a sandwich she'd grabbed from the mess hall and going through the list on her tablet, when she heard a noise at the door. It sounded like straining metal.

"What the hell?" she muttered, sliding off the crate. One hand poised over her throwing knives, Quinn moved as quietly as she could towards the entrance, eyes narrowed at a shape moving in the hall. After a second, it became clear what she was looking at and she relaxed. "Steve?" He stopped pulling at the door and Quinn keyed in the code to open it. "What are you doing down here? Aside from breaking into a secure storage room, of course."

One corner of Steve's mouth lifted, but he didn't laugh. "I… Stark and Dr. Banner, they said somethings about Director Fury's behaviour and—"

"And you decided to go snooping? What did they say?" Anger pushed at Quinn's chest; she might have been able to keep it down if her emotional control wasn't already frayed, but as it was, she was having a hard time staying calm.

"They said it was suspicious that SHIELD was interested in something like the Tesseract, an energy source, and that Tony Stark, or even Dr. Banner, hadn't been brought in on the project before now, especially if SHIELD really was looking for a way to use the Tesseract for clean energy. An intelligence agency that fears intelligence—that's what Stark said."

"Well, you shouldn't be listening to Stark," Quinn snapped.

"He's the only one who seems to telling the truth around here, even if he has to spy on the computers around here to get it."

"He what?"

"That's not the point—"

"Fine!" Quinn dropped her tablet on the nearest crate and stepped aside, gesturing for Steve to enter the room. "You want to snoop through the creates, be my guest."

"You could just tell me what's in them." Steve's voice was a little surly, and though Quinn had heard him speak like that before, she had hoped it would never be directed at her.

"I don't know what's in them." Quinn grabbed her tablet and thrust it into Steve's face. "This is all I know: location of origin, crate number, and the case or project it's related to. I have no idea what's in any of these crates. I know nothing about them except that they came from the Tesseract project in the desert and were pulled from the rubble after the collapse that could have killed Coulson." She returned the tablet to its holder on her leg. "So go ahead. Open them."

They continued to stare at each other for a couple seconds, and Quinn thought Steve was going to say something, but instead, he clenched his jaw and pushed past her to start ripping open the crates.

Quinn didn't know what she'd expected to be inside, but it certainly wasn't what looked like a bunch of weapons from a 1950s sci-fi movie. She hadn't expected Steve's suspicions to be proven true. "What the…"

"HYDRA weapons." Steve's voice was quiet and tight with anger. His blue eyes seared into Quinn when he turned to look at her. "What are they doing here? What's Phase 2?" He was almost yelling.

"I don't know, Steve! I promise—"

"How do i know you're telling the truth, Quinn? You work for SHIELD, and you're close with Agent Coulson, who was on the Tesseract project, and Director Fury who's in charge of this whole thing—"

"I wasn't on the project! I wasn't privy to what they were doing with the Tesseract—I'm still not! And I have never lied to you! I told you I would answer your questions and tell you whatever I could, and I have! I've kept nothing from you. If I had known SHIELD was using the HYDRA weapons—hell, if I'd even known they _had_ the weapons—I would have said something!" Quinn's tawny eyes dropped to the exposed contents of the crate and she felt the anger shift towards hurt, tears prickling at her eyes. Had Coulson known? Would he have told her if he'd known? "Steve—"

He turned and walked away from her, heading towards another crate. Steve pulled that one open, almost yanking the lid off its hinge, and revealed another, nastier-looking HYDRA weapon. Crate after create revealed more weapons and armour, all of the same style and material, all confirmed by Steve's anger to be from HYDRA's heyday during World War II. Quinn sunk onto the lid of an unopened crate and dropped her head into her hands as he worked, trying to convince herself that Coulson couldn't have known what SHIELD was building, that he would have told her, but she wasn't content with that. Coulson was loyal to Fury and to SHIELD, just like she was, and if he'd been ordered not to tell anyone, he wouldn't have, not unless exposing that information would have helped in some way.

The tears that had been threatening started to fall and Quinn quickly wiped them away, sniffing back the snot building in her nose. It shouldn't matter this much. Secrets were the job. She'd always known that. Had she honestly expected anything different? Coulson had kept things from her before—he had a higher security clearance. That was part of the job too.

When she straightened to take a deep breath, Quinn found Steve watching her, the hostility gone from his face, but something still wary in his eyes. "Quinn…"

"Stop. Don't apologize." She wiped a rogue tear away and stood up. "You have every right to be angry."

"Not at you." He took a step closer, one hand lifting a little bit, like he was planning to touch her, squeeze her shoulder or push some of the hair from her face, but dropped it back to his side before he did anything. "You're right. You haven't kept anything from me, and I know you weren't supposed to show me some of Peggy's files, so I am sorry I snapped at you. It's not you I'm angry with."

Quinn felt the rage draining from her, leaving her spent. She rubbed her face and then slid her hands back through her hair, pulling strands free and no doubt giving her a wild look. "What are you going to do? Are you going to leave?"

Steve leaned against the crates across from her. "I can't very well do that, not when there's so much at stake. But after… I don't know. This is all I know."

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you did want to leave. I kind of want to leave."

Steve chuckled. "You could no more leave than I could."

"You're right about that." Quinn sighed, pulled her braid over her shoulder, and started undoing it. The familiar and repetitive motions calmed her, helped her find some measure of peace. She was shaking out her long locks before she realized Steve was watching her, a softness to his expression she'd never seen before. "What?" she asked through a bit of laughter.

Steve shook his head. "Nothing. You just… I saw the tension go out of your shoulders."

Quinn shrugged and started rebraiding her hair. "It's the repetition and familiarity. If I was at home or in my office, I might do yoga or something." She finished the braid and smoothed her hands over her hair. "I don't… I should talk to Coulson. You can poke around in here some more if you want. Just make sure you close the door on the way out."

"Okay. Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should get some rest?"

"Would if I thought I could, Cap." She smiled, but she was starting to feel fatigue pulling at her. She'd been up for almost twenty-four hours, after all. "I'll sleep when this is over." For some reason, tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes again—she really was tired. She pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. When she looked up, Steve was standing close again.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, but his concern touched her. "I will be, Cap." Her eyes dropped to the HYDRA weapon visible behind Steve. "I don't think you'll get a straight answer about all this, but let me know if you do, because I can almost guarantee I won't." She sighed. _This is the life you signed up for,_ she told herself.

"I will," Steve said. He gave her a small smile before she turned and left.

She headed back towards the elevator, pain dancing through her bones, and decided halfway there that talking to Coulson could wait. It was almost dawn and she was exhausted. She'd nearly finished cataloguing the rooms Director Fury had assigned for Phase 2, so maybe she should try and get some rest. Without waiting for her to consciously make up her mind, her feet led her to the agents' quarters and to her bunk. Her mind continued to race as she removed her weapons, belts, tablet, and boots—there was no sense changing, since she'd be up again in a few hours—and stretched out on her bunk and closed her eyes. She tried to think about nothing, she tried to relax, but it was if someone had sewn her shoulder blades together and sent a current through her muscles.

Her leg cramped around her scars and she reached down to massage it, remembering waking up in the hospital, unable to move, remembering when the first sensations had come back to her legs. It had all been pain. She'd screamed. Coulson had held her hand, rubbed her back. She remembered seeing the Destroyer, hearing its beam cutting through the air and the building. She remembered falling. She remembered the darkness, clinging to bits of consciousness as she heard Clint and Coulson calling her name.

Quinn curled in on herself as much as her bad leg would allow and squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

At some point, she slipped into a restless sleep, but even then her memories didn't leave her alone.


	5. Chapter 5

_May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Agent Scott's quarters_

It wasn't Quinn's alarm that awoke her from her nap, but an explosion.

It reverberated through the helicarrier, and then the great ship lurched and dipped to one side, sending the SHIELD agent, already perched on the edge of her bed, to the floor. Quinn bit off a yell of pain as she got to her feet and retrieved her boots and equipment. As she dressed and fixed her hair, she called up a report on the screen in her room to figure out what the hell had happened—one of the helicarrier engines had been taken out by a small explosive.

But by what? Or who? Had it been Loki's henchmen? But how would they have known where—

 _Clint._

It had to have been Hawkeye. He would know the helicarrier's weak spots, so he would have known where to shoot, and he had scores of exploding arrows—they were a favourite of his. If Loki was controlling him…

As the thoughts crossed her mind, Quinn's tablet buzzed. She picked it up as she headed into the hallway, limping more than she had been when she went to bed; she hoped walking would help loosen the muscles. The message was from Coulson, and it confirmed what she'd guessed. It didn't make her feel any better.

 _Barton and Loki's men attacked the helicarrier. Blew out an engine. Get down to armoury. Put your earpiece in._

"Oh, Clint," Quinn breathed.

She wanted to stop walking and absorb the turn of events, but she kept going. She had to keep going. The armoury was down near the level with the storage bays, quite some distance away. No time to dawdle, even if the prospect of possibly facing off against one of her best friends was unsettling. Deeply unsettling. The sounds of fighting reached her ears as she approached the elevator—screams and gunshots and smaller explosions—and Quinn willed the elevator to move faster, for the distance between her and the armoury to shrink. She had to get to Coulson and do something to help.

Quinn was heading down the hall towards the armoury when she found Coulson heading towards her, a massive black and silver gun in one hand. It nearly reached the floor. "Too slow, Kid," he said with a smile. "You got your weapon?"

"Of course," Quinn said, dropping her hand to the butt of her gun. Almost as an afterthought, she withdrew it and held it in one hand, pointed at the floor; she probably should have had it out since leaving her quarters.

"Take another one and some more ammo, just in case." Coulson handed her another pistol, which she put in her now empty holster, and three more clips of ammo, which she affixed to her belt. "I know you don't want to shoot anyone we might know, but don't risk your life to try and keep one of them alive. They won't hesitate. Better to be safe than sorry."

He started walking back towards the elevator, and Quinn fell in beside him, one gun still in hand, ready. "And what if I run into Clint? You think I'm just going to shoot him?"

"In the leg, maybe."

Quinn was about to ask Coulson if he was serious before she realized her boss was joking in an attempt to lighten the mood. Quinn bumped his arm with her shoulder, one corner of her mouth lifting in a grin. "Very funny, Boss. What do you need me to do?"

"Get to the research room and backup whatever you can, just in case. The drives are set to upload to the SHIELD servers in DC every fifteen minutes, but we shouldn't take any chances, especially when Clint is slinging grenades around. Fury and Hill are trapped on the bridge by hostiles, and we lost track of Barton, though I think Nat's gone after him." Coulson held the elevator door open for Quinn as a much smaller blast went off somewhere above them, near the elevator shaft. "See? Grenade," he muttered.

"Where are you going?" Quinn eyed the weapon in his hand—it was a prototype made from the Destroyer's corpse, one that R&D had been working on pretty much since Thor had taken out the thing—and had a feeling she knew the answer. But she wanted him to say it.

"Tp lockup. It won't be priority, since it's not likely Loki will be able to get out of it, but I'm not taking the chance and leaving him unguarded. That's exactly what he wants. I'll do what I can to keep him there, or I'll eject him, though I don't really want to let him out of my sight."

"Boss…"

"Be careful, Quinn."

She sighed, familiar enough with Coulson's stubborn side that she knew fighting him on this wouldn't change his mind, even if he was headed into a more dangerous situation than she was. "You be careful too. You've still got trading cards to get signed, after all."

Coulson winked at her as the elevator doors opened on the level that would lead to Loki's prison. "Maybe you could use some of your influence over the captain to get him to sign the rest of our merch too. Of course, I'm sure you won't have to beg too much to get him to sign your comics."

"I don't— He's not— Oh shut up," Quinn said, smiling as the doors closed once more and took her up a few more levels to where the research lab was located.

As the doors closed though, a shiver worked its way down her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach, souring to dread. She was nearly overcome with the urge to go back down and follow Coulson, or convince him to come with her, but she pushed it aside, blaming the apprehension on the situation as a whole rather than some sort of premonition. She didn't believe in such things. Besides, Coulson would be fine. He was always fine. Hell, he'd escaped the implosion of the Project PEGASUS base without a scratch. They would laugh about this after, over a drink, like they always did at the end of a mission.

Pushing the worry from her mind, Quinn moved quickly down the hall, alert for any hostiles. She held her gun in both hands in front of her, moving through and scanning her surroundings as she'd been taught all those years ago in the academy. It had been a while since she'd needed to use the skills, but she was glad to find them still so ingrained. What was the phrase? Like riding a bike. On the earpiece she'd popped in as she left her quarters, Quinn heard chaos on the bridge as Fury and Hill barked orders and medics were called in for those who had been shot. The helicarrier lurched and she stumbled once more. Natasha's voice, quieter than normal, relayed the Hulk was out and at large as Quinn was getting back on her feet.

 _Great. The Hulk is roaming the halls of a flying fortress. This'll go good._

Loud noises and a scream that could only have come from the green behemoth in question sounded from somewhere beneath Quinn, but she tried not to think about it too hard as she closed the final bit of distance between her and the research lab. Inside the curved room, banks of computers and drive storage flickered in the dim light. There were no overhead lights on to illuminate the room, just the early-morning light coming through the wall of windows, but it was more than enough for Quinn to navigate by as she moved through the aisles. When on desk duty, Quinn had spent a good deal of time digitizing old files, and she was familiar with the backup procedure, so it was an easy thing for her to get the process started.

Not so easy was waiting around, on edge and in pain, for the backup to complete.

Quinn sunk into the chair in front of the main terminal, her gun back in her sweaty hand, just in case. Thankfully, it was high, so she didn't have to bend her knees, but it wasn't very comfortable. She narrowed her eyes at the progress bar on the screen.

 _Come on…_

Something struck the underside of the floor, knocking over several computers and tables and sending Quinn to her ass on the floor, unable to keep her balance perched on the chair. Another thud immediately followed the first, and more equipment was sent sprawling across the room as the lights flickered. Then the floor exploded in a shower of sparks and grinding metal, two bodies went flying, and Quinn was on her back, staring up at the oddly shaped ceiling of the research lab.

The sounds of fighting roused her from her stupor. Quinn rolled onto her side and climbed painfully to her feet, just in time to duck under Mjolnir flying by; it didn't look like Thor had thrown it, more like it had been tossed aside in the battle. And there was no other word for what Quinn witnessed in the next few seconds: Thor and the Hulk locked in a grappling match, trying to overpower each other or pound one another into submission. The sounds of their fists on each other's flesh were loud, powerful.

So stunned was Quinn that she almost didn't hear the order Agent Hill yelled over the earpiece.

" _Proceed to Wishbone and engage!"_ she barked, only the authoritative tone of voice cutting through the rest of the noise to reach Quinn's brain.

"Shit."

She limped-ran towards the door, intending to get out of the line of fire before the jet Hill had been talking about arrived and opened fire; Thor and the Hulk might survive a barrage of bullets, but she certainly wouldn't. Quinn was maybe seven feet from the doorway when she was knocked from her feet again, this time by a tossed Asgardian. She felt something in her chest snap and her chin smacked the floor hard, making her ears ring. Her breath was pushed from her lungs.

Asgardians were not light beings.

Quinn groaned and pushed against Thor, trying to get free.

Thor rolled off her back as he came to his senses. When he saw her, lying there, worry took over his battle-ready expression. "Agent Scott, I—"

He didn't get to finish as, at that second, the first bullets tore through the windows, scattering glass over the destroyed room and breaking whatever wasn't already broken. Quinn yelped when a round struck a table above her, sending splinters of wood across her face and into her hair. Thor grabbed the front of her belt and pulled her behind the most solid-looking object nearby, and held her down with one hand on her stomach while keeping his body between her and the rest of the room. And the bullets. Quinn couldn't see what was happening, though she heard some screaming and growling from the Hulk, more shots, and then the noises got farther and farther away and something exploded, and then she was just lying there on the floor, curled against Thor and nearly gasping to try and keep enough air in her lungs.

"Agent Scott, are you injured?" Thor asked quietly.

She managed to do a quick self-assessment. Her ears were ringing and she knew she'd have a headache soon, one or two ribs were severely bruised, if not broken, her leg was on fire, there was blood on her chin, and she was probably bruised and scraped to hell. She also realized she was holding on to Thor's leather armour with a white-knuckled grip and immediately let go. "Yes, but I don't think it's anything major. Can you help me up?"

"Of course. Move slow, Agent Scott."

With Thor's hands on her arms—he made her look so small—Quinn got to her feet. He kept hold of her as she blinked and waited for the world to right itself around her. She inhaled cautiously. Definitely some broken ribs. Nothing that would present any immediate issues, and nothing that wouldn't heal on its own. "I'm okay, Thor. I'll get checked out as soon as I can. You should go," she said, looking up at him. She had no idea where he was going now that Hulk had vanished, but he looked anxious to get moving.

For a second, it looked like Thor was going to say something else, but he just met Quinn's gaze, gave her a half smile and a nod, and then left the research lab at a run, summoning his hammer into his hand as he went. Quinn sagged against the doorframe to catch her breath and gather her senses. Her whole body ached, but she couldn't stop now. She cast a look around the lab. Not a single light on.

 _So much for the backup._

Coulson's voice crackled over the earpiece. _"Kid. Kid, can you read me?"_

"I'm here, Boss."

" _Head to lockup if you're done there."_

"I'm, uh, as done as I can be. The room got destroyed in a scuffle between Thor and Hulk. I don't know how much of the backup made it through, but at least some of it did." She pushed herself off the doorframe and started towards Loki's cell, her body protesting every move. "I'm on my way."

The helicarrier was oddly silent as Quinn made her way through the hallways once more. The only sounds came from far-off fighting and the echo of Iron Man's repulsor blasts. She'd had to draw the second pistol from her holster since the first had gotten lost in the rubble. Quinn wondered where Steve was, what was happening on the bridge, how Hill and Fury were doing, and Nat and Clint as well—she thought about anything but how much walking and breathing hurt, and what the pain would mean for her rehab. She'd jokingly told Steve she'd probably never be free of the brace because she was reckless and tended to act before thinking, but now it might actually be the truth and she wasn't sure if she could handle it.

She didn't want to go back to physical therapy, especially if she'd need a new therapist.

Her leg seized three steps from the elevator. She dropped against a bulkhead, holding tight to keep herself from dropping to the floor; if she went all the way down, she wasn't sure she'd be able to get up without help. The metal was cold against her forehead, and, in that moment, she very much wanted to go to sleep.

 _Great. Probably have a concussion too._

Quinn swallowed past a lump in her dry throat, cramming the welling emotions back down. The idea of walking the rest of the way to lockup was terribly unappealing and seemed almost impossible in her current condition, but she had to keep going. She really just wanted to lay down. Even on the floor of the corridor would be fine.

 _Good job, Quinn. Real good job._

But Coulson had asked for her. He might need her help.

With a groan, Quinn pushed herself off the bulkhead and made it to the elevator. She leaned heavily on the railing around the edge of the car, once again willing it to move faster.

" _Quinn?"_

"I'm on my way, Boss. Almost there."

" _You don't sound good. Are you hurt?"_

"Nothing I can't handle. Just a couple busted ribs and a knock to the head. In the hallway now. Don't do anything stupid."

" _No promises, kid, you know that."_

Quinn rolled her eyes. They'd joked about not doing anything stupid since the mission Quinn had screwed up; Coulson had said it to her before she'd gone and done just that. "This is not the time for that," Quinn said, gasping a bit. Her ribs pulled, but she powered through, pushing the pain to the back of her mind as best she could. The helicarrier lurched again.

" _Quinn, maybe you'd better stay back,"_ Coulson said suddenly, his voice cracking slightly. He was scared.

She moved faster and found some of her sore muscles had loosened a little, though every movement still caused her pain. It was easier to ignore now. "What? Coulson, what's happening?"

" _Something I should have seen coming, Kid."_ He gave a little laugh and Quinn could hear him checking the gun in his hands. No one had ever fired the Destroyer weapon outside a lab where no one actually had to touch it, so no one was really sure what would happen when it went off, to the shooter or the target. _"I'm going to stop him."_

"Stop Loki? Boss!" Quinn started jogging. She could see the outer door to the cell. "I'm almost there."


	6. Chapter 6

_May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, lockup_

Quinn didn't even make it to the door before a big man dressed in black fatigues and loaded for bear stepped into the hallway. There was a split second where he didn't realize she was standing there and if she'd been uninjured and could have moved with her normal speed, Quinn would have had him disarmed on the ground. As it was, he got his gun up and prepared to shoot her before she reacted. All Quinn had to her advantage was the fact that she was shorter than he was anticipating.

She ducked just before he squeezed the trigger and launched herself into the man, shoving her shoulder into his chest. The bullet impacted somewhere further down the hall. Her leg screamed, but she planted it anyway and brought her elbow up as the man stumbled back, catching the edge of his chin and snapping his head back. She straightened her arm and brought the butt of her pistol down on his nose with a satisfying crunch; she would have prefered to hit him in the temple and knock him unconscious, but his helmet prevented that.

With a cry, he swung his gun around, using it as a club to beat her around the shoulders and the back of her head. It hurt, but not as much as it could have if he'd had more room to wind up. Quinn bit off a yell and brought her knee up between the man's legs, abruptly stopping his assault as he gasped and bent forward, groaning. Before he could recover, she reached for her knives with her left hand and slammed one of the thin blades into the side of his throat.

His death was quick. Blood seeped from the wound, the flow partially blocked by the weapon, and he dropped to the floor without much preamble. It had been a good strike.

Not that that made Quinn feel any better about it.

She closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. The scuffle had only taken a couple seconds, but what little energy she'd had was rapidly depleting and she felt a little nauseous. But, obstacle removed, she crossed the threshold into lockup.

The first thing she noticed was Thor locked in Loki's cell, pressed as close to the transparent walls as he could get.

The second thing was Loki standing near the control panel.

The third was Coulson, with another fatigue-clad man at his feet and the Destroyer weapon aimed at the Asgardian in front of him.

"Move away, please," Coulson said calmly. He kept the weapon trained on Loki as the Asgardian stepped away from the panel; inside the cell, Thor watched his brother with an intense gaze, his hand flexing around Mjolnir's handle. "You like it?" Coulson asked, following Loki's gaze to the dim orange glow emanating from the weapon's core. "We started working on it after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. You want to find out?"

The words weren't followed by a response from Loki, but by the worst sound Quinn had ever heard.

A gasp fell from Coulson's lips. Quinn looked from where Loki _had_ been to her boss.

The tip of Loki's sceptre was sticking out of Coulson's chest.

His feet hung a few inches off the ground.

Behind him, Loki grinned.

Quinn's legs went limp, her knees striking the floor hard enough to knock the air from her lungs again. Her chest was tight, her blood rushing in her ears. Everything seemed to slow down to half speed as Loki dropped Coulson against the wall and headed for the control panel once more. Thor screamed and beat against the glass, but the noise seemed to be coming from far away, and Quinn was only minimally aware of the cell dropping out of view. She couldn't take her eyes from Coulson, slumped against the wall.

She wanted to go to him but she couldn't seem to make herself move. Her legs wouldn't obey.

"You're going to lose." Coulson's voice was weak, but it managed to reach Quinn's ears anyway, cutting through the fog. A sob caught in her throat.

Loki scoffed. "Am I?"

"It's in… your nature."

"Your heroes are scattered and your fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?" Loki sneered at Coulson, confident in his superiority. Quinn sobbed again, but Loki didn't pay her any mind.

She managed to stand using the wall, and she leaned against it, propping herself up. The room spun a bit, but she had to get to Coulson.

"You lack conviction."

"I—"

Coulson shot Loki, the gun in his hands flaring a familiar bright red-orange as the sound that plagued Quinn's nightmares echoed around the small chamber and Loki went flying through a wall. She was never sure how she crossed the room, but the next thing Quinn knew, she was on her knees beside Coulson, nearly panting with the exertion, and her face wet with tears.

He looked up at her, the light in his eyes already fading. His lips twitched like he was trying to smile. "So that's what it does…"

Quinn sobbed and gasped down air, her eyes burning as tears began to fall in earnest. Her hands hovered uselessly over the wound, her eyes darting from the hole in Coulson's chest to his eyes and back again. There would be no use holding pressure—he would just bleed out from the hole in his back. "Boss…" she managed to say, her mind racing as she tried to think of something she could do to help.

"Hey, Kid…"

She sobbed again, fumbled at her ear until she heard the connection take. It was all she could think of, even though it was likely Fury already knew what had happened. "Director… Coulson's down." She'd meant to also say, _he was stabbed through the chest_ , but the words wouldn't come. Her throat felt closed-off from emotion.

"Look at me."

Quinn met Coulson's gaze, his face wavering slightly as new tears fell. There were tears on his cheeks too, and he reached up with one hand towards Quinn's face, but he no longer had the strength to hold it up, so she grabbed it and held on tightly. "Just hold on, Boss. Fury will be here soon with the medics." Another sob. "You'll be fine." She tried to make it sound like she was confident or like an order, but her voice wavered too much.

"Quinn—"

"You'll be _fine_." It sounded more like an order the second time. She reached forward again and made to cover the wound, even though she knew it would be pointless.

Coulson smiled anyway, one corner of his mouth lifting as he pushed weakly at her hands. "Don't… There's nothing…" He gave his head a nearly imperceptible shake and smiled at her. "I'm proud of you, Kid. Keep… Keep fighting your way back to the field. It's where you belong. Take care of… of them. You believe in this." She didn't have to ask what he was talking about—the Avengers Initiative. She'd been interested in it and adamant about it moving forward from the moment her and Coulson had been brought on board. They had shared an enthusiasm for it, like so many other things. "Quinn—" His voice broke. His grip tightened on her hand.

"Boss, I—"

Quinn wasn't sure what she might have said next, since Director Fury arrived at that moment, and knelt on the other side of Coulson. His eye met Quinn's before dropping to Coulson. Quinn saw more emotion in that quick look than she could remember seeing from Fury since she'd met him.

"Medical is on their way," he said.

"Sorry, boss," Coulson managed, his head rolling to the other side. His voice was breathier than it had been, and it sounded like he was having some trouble breathing. "The guy rabbited."

"Just stay awake. Eyes on me."

Quinn latched on to the sturdines in Fury's voice and used it to centre herself. She sniffed back her tears and squeezed Coulson's hand in both of her own, bringing it up to her face to hold against her cheek. His fingers were already cold.

He would be fine. He had to be fine. He was always fine. He wouldn't leave her too.

 _He'll be fine, he'll be fine, he'll be fine…_

"I'm… I'm clocked out here," Coulson said. His eyes returned to Quinn as she sobbed again, harder. He gave her a look that she could only classify as apologetic. "Quinn…"

 _He'll be fine..._

"Stop it," she snapped, even as more tears fell. Her voice didn't even sound like her own. Her chest was so tight, it felt like she was being compressed from both sides, like she might burst. "You're going to be fine." But his grip on her hand was weakening, his breathing becoming more laboured. He was pale as a sheet.

"Checking out is _not_ an option, Phil."

Coulson's gaze slid back to Fury. "It's okay… This was never going to work… if they didn't… have something to…"

His head rolled to the side again, a final breath rattling from his lungs as his eyes went dark and his hand went slack in Quinn's. The pressure in Quinn's chest released in an anguished cry, something inside her snapped, and it was all she could do to keep from collapsing forward onto Coulson's motionless chest.

Then someone was shoving her out of the way—a man in white, a medic.

But it didn't matter that Quinn recognized who he was and what he was trying to do. All she could think was that someone was trying to take her away from Coulson and that she couldn't leave him. She tried to move closer again. She had to get to him. Then there was another set of hands on her, pulling her back. She tried to fight but Director Fury—for it was Fury pulling her out of the way of the medics—held tight until the adrenaline began to fade and she fell against him instead. She could feel the vibrations in his chest that meant he was talking, but not a word reached her, not even when the tears stopped and she stood there, numb. Not even when Fury left her side to speak with the medics. She was rooted to the spot, frozen in place.

She didn't come back to herself until one of the medics reached her the face to inspect the cut on her chin, when she started and took a step back, wobbling.

"I need to examine you," the medic said, his brow furrowing.

"I'll need to go to the infirmary," Quinn said, her tone flat and hollow. "I have other injuries."

"Can you walk?"

"Not without help." Pain was starting to creep back in now. She watched the medics load Coulson's sheet-covered body onto a gurney—when had all that equipment arrived?—and tottered towards it. She had to stay with him. Other techs were busy collecting the Destroyer gun and analyzing the hole it had left in the wall. "I'll just ride with Coulson." The medic looked like he was going to protest, but Quinn had already climbed onto the end of the gurney near Coulson's feet.

The medical personnel shared a look, but at a wave from Fury, they started towards the infirmary. Quinn kept one hand on Coulson's leg the whole time, above the sheet, and tried not to think about how wooden he already felt with whatever made him _him_ gone. The medic pushing the end Quinn sat on kept flicking his eyes up to her, like he was waiting for her to freak out or fall apart or something, but she remained still and quiet until they reached the sterile white and silver infirmary, where she lowered herself off the gurney and perched on one of the beds, waiting to be examined; her eyes tracked Coulson until he was taken into the morgue.

A fine trembling started to work its way through her body. Fresh tears fell soundlessly.

 _He can't be gone. This is a dream. I'll wake up._

 _Won't I?_

Quinn was startled again when the doctor approached.

The doctor who examined Quinn was a woman she'd seen around before but never had occasion to talk to. Quinn couldn't remember her name, but at that moment, she wasn't sure she would remember anything. The small but sturdy doctor worked quickly, efficiently, and said nothing about Quinn's crying or about Coulson. She was only interested in clearing Quinn so she could move on to one of the other injured agents.

Quinn ended up needing a couple stitches in her chin and several for a cut on her forehead she hadn't even realized she had. The doctor also gave her some painkillers to take for her ribs and her leg, and instructions to get someone to check on her when she slept in case her concussion worsened. Then she was told to lay down and rest.

Exhausted and sore and drugged, Quinn couldn't even find it in her to disobey, as much as she wanted to get up and see Coulson one last time.

"You look like hell."

Natasha's voice brought Quinn out of her daze. She'd been trying to sleep, but was unable to relax enough to achieve it. Not even the painkillers helped. "Feel like it too," Quinn said, meeting Natasha's gaze.

The redhead climbed onto the bed and sat facing Quinn. "We got Clint," she said after a moment. Her eyes darted to the morgue door, but she said nothing about Coulson.

"He okay?"

"Whatever brainwashing Loki did seems to be fading, but he's still pretty out of it. Only minor injuries, so he'll be fine in a little while. He wants a piece of Loki, I can tell you that much." Natasha reached behind to grab the tablet at the end of Quinn's bed. She flipped through the screens until she found the chart. "Looks like you will be too. I was worried when they said you were having trouble walking."

"I'll be fine."

Natasha returned the tablet to its holder and then looked down at Quinn with an expression somewhere between concern and grief. "I know you will, Scottie." She took Quinn's hand in hers, gave it a squeeze.

Quinn squeezed back. "It hurts like a bitch, though."

Natasha chuckled. "I'm going to go check on Clint again, and then we're going to figure out a way to go after Loki. We'll get him, and when we're done…" Her eyes darted to the morgue door again. When she spoke, her voice was strong, determined. "We'll get Loki."

"I know you will."

Natasha gave Quinn's hand another squeeze before she got off the bed and left the infirmary.

Quinn shifted a bit on the bed and tried to find a comfortable position, pulling the blanket up over her legs to ward off a sudden chill. She tried not to think about Coulson, about Loki, about any of it, but her mind rebelled and began a spiral of thoughts that left Quinn quietly crying, huddled on the narrow hospital bed, and feeling alone.

* * *

 _May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, morgue_

Quinn stood beside the table where the medics had put Coulson, her arms crossed tightly. He was still covered by a sheet and she'd been trying to bring herself to uncover his face so she could…

Well, she wasn't sure what.

She wanted to say goodbye, but there was a part of her that wanted to make sure he was really gone, as ridiculous as that sounded, even to her. A small voice in Quinn's brain told her that he was just sleeping, that he'd wake up as soon as she touched him. Rationally, she knew that was impossible, but she couldn't help a little kernel of hope settling in.

They were living in a time of monsters and gods and magic and who knew what could happen.

But, despite all that, Quinn couldn't bring herself to take that last step forward. She'd been standing there for fifteen minutes and had barely moved.

It felt like there was something missing inside—a hole, crumbling away at the edges, eroding every second in the wake of her sadness, her sense of loss. If she actually said goodbye, it would make that hole and the accompanying pain real, and Quinn wasn't sure if she could handle that. She wasn't sure if she could handle looking at Coulson's still face. It might have been the painkillers and the aches taking over her body, but Quinn wasn't sure she was actually handling the situation at all. She felt like she was on the edge of falling apart and wasn't sure where to turn. She wanted to hunt down Loki and to make him pay. She wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. She wanted to go back in time and save Coulson. She wanted to… do something. Anything.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't move.

She was frozen, standing there in the chilled room, rooted to the spot, her body disconnected from her thoughts, unable to obey the electrical impulses from her brain—impulses that were sluggish, trapped by Quinn's refusal to accept what she knew to be true and move forward. Even her breathing felt shallower and slower than normal.

Tears started to bubble up in the corners of her eyes again. She blinked rapidly to try and clear them before she spiralled back down. But it was too late.

 _If I don't look at him, I can pretend he's asleep._

 _He's not asleep._

 _He could wake up. There's that thing you read about—Lazarus Syndrome. The medics tried to resuscitate him. It could happen._

 _It's won't. He's gone._

 _What if something in the sceptre brings him back? We don't know how this magic crap works._

 _He's gone. Coulson's gone._

 _Coulson's gone._

The tears began to fall faster and Quinn crossed her arms tighter. She could feel the trembling starting again and felt like she might dissolve back to sobs or collapse again, neither of which she was crazy about, but it seemed like there was nothing she could do to keep herself under control.

She took a shaky step forward and the ground tipped up to meet her.

Quinn prepared for the impact, but a pair of strong arms caught her and put her back on her feet.


	7. Chapter 7

_May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, bridge_

The helicarrier had fallen silent.

It was eerie, to be able to hear the sounds of the flying ship rather than the din of activity and overlapping conversations, and Steve found it unsettling. In the wake of the attack, Loki's escape, and Coulson's death, it was understandable. Steve wasn't even that surprised by the impact Coulson's death seemed to have on everyone. From the little time he'd spent with the man and from what he'd been told, Steve got the idea that Coulson was well respected and loved and took great pride in his work as an agent of SHIELD.

But Agent Clint Barton had been retrieved during the attack, which was a win as far as everything was considered, and there were only a handful of serious injuries. Most people had walked away with nothing more than cuts and bruises.

Currently, Steve sat at the table on the bridge where, only hours ago, the team had watched Loki taunt Director Fury from his cell, and stared at the bloody trading cards the director had dropped in front of him. His painted smiling face, decked out in the original Captain America costume he'd worn to sell bonds during World War II, stared back at him, a perfect salute pressed to his brow above the eyeholes of the mask. Faces of his Howling Commandos looked grimly out from the surface of another card, and the rest featured the real and imagined adventures of Captain America, all rendered in exquisite detail. The cards had been in pretty good shape before the blood, considering how old they were, and it was clear they'd been taken care of, even if he didn't like them quite as much as the photographs Quinn had tucked in the pages of her great-grandfather's journal.

But Steve only saw the blood.

Agent Phil Coulson's blood, bright red but darkening every second as it dried. It would never come out of the cards.

The speech Director Fury had given before tossing those cards on the table was still ringing in his ears. He'd admitted to SHIELD planning to use the Tesseract and HYDRA weapons to build an arsenal to protect Earth from extraterrestrial threats, and he'd elaborated a bit on the Avengers Initiative, which Steve had heard Quinn talk about a few times.

 _Quinn…_

Fury's last words before he'd left Steve sitting there alone had been, _Phil Coulson died still believe in the Initiative, in heroes._ But he hadn't been the only one who still believed in it.

Leaving the cards on the table where they'd fallen, Steve got to his feet and headed for the elevator. Fury, standing in front of the helicarrier controls, looked at him over his shoulder, but said nothing. Steve thought the director might have nodded, but the motion had been barely perceptible so he couldn't be sure. As the elevator doors closed and the car took him down to the infirmary, Steve's thoughts turned back to Quinn.

When Fury had informed everyone on board that Coulson had been declared dead, Steve had heard someone crying in the background, and knew it had to be Quinn. There was no question. He'd wanted to go to her then, to offer the comfort and stability she'd given him after coming out of the ice, but Fury had called for a debriefing, which Steve couldn't refuse. Now, with his gloves and uniform jacket removed and his heart heavy, Steve moved swiftly through the halls, following his mental image of the helicarrier's layout to the infirmary and, connected to it, the morgue.

Quinn wasn't in the infirmary, though there was one empty bed with the sheets rumpled. He paused long enough to grab the tablet at the end of the bed and look at Quinn's chart: concussion, several minor bruises and cuts, split chin and a cut on her head that had required stitches, and muscle strain and bruising in her bad leg. But she would be okay, and that was the important thing. Steve returned the tablet and looked around the room for any sign of Quinn. There was none. The other injured agents were sleeping or chatting with medical personnel, and as no one seemed bothered by Steve's presence, so he headed for the door labelled MORGUE at the opposite end of the room, knowing that was the only other place she would be.

He entered just in time to catch Quinn and stop her from hitting the floor.

He set her back on her feet, turning her so she faced him. Her eyes were red and puffy, their unusual tawny colour darkened by her grief and pain, and her dark brown hair was a mess, myriad strands having been pulled from her braid at some point. Her chin and head were indeed stitched and bandaged, and he could see a bruise on one cheek. The pant leg of her uniform was bloody around her brace, and she was leaning slightly to the right, favouring her braced leg.

She looked up at Steve and blinked a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up.

"Steve," she said, her voice small and breathy.

The sound was so unlike her normal voice that, without thought, he wrapped his arms around her and held on as her shoulders began to shake with fresh sobs. She pressed her face into his chest, her height allowing her to tuck herself in right beneath his chin, and curled her arms between them. His spine stiffened slightly when he realized the hug must cross some professional line, but he banished the thought almost immediately—Quinn was grieving and if he could help comfort her, he would. Besides, they were alone in the morgue.

Even so, after a moment, Quinn stepped back and wiped her cheeks; the tears didn't stop, but the sobbing did, which seemed to be enough for her. She offered up a weak twitch of her lips as a smile, and pushed back, her fingers digging into his chest slightly. Keeping one hand on Steve's arm, she turned around to look at the sheet-covered body of Phil Coulson. Her grip on Steve's arm tightened. She sighed shakily and took another step closer, seemingly drawing strength from no longer being alone. For several beats, she was silent and still.

"He was all the family I had," she whispered eventually, so quietly that, at first, Steve wasn't sure she'd spoken.

"What about your parents?" Steve kept his voice quiet too. The room was still and cold and speaking too loudly seemed somehow wrong. "In DC?"

"Of course I still have them, but… We do so much that's classified… I can't tell them about work. I can't ask them for help. And with me out of state and healed… They're busy. I don't see them much anymore. We talk sometimes and they do what they can, but there's only so much." A sob shook her voice, but she inhaled, exhaled, and then continued. She was trembling. "Phil was who I talked to about work and… everything else. I saw him every day. He knew me better than anyone else…"

Her hand tightened again and he could feel her shaking, so Steve shifted so he could take her hand in his instead. Her skin was cold. Quinn fought off another sob and reached forward to pull the sheet back with her free hand, uncovering Agent Coulson's face. Someone had closed his eyes and, though his skin was far too pale and he was far too still, he looked peaceful. At rest. With the mortal wound on his chest and still covered, there was nothing marring his features. Quinn's hand hovered above his shoulder, shaking violently. She exhaled another breath and lowered her hand. Her fingers jumped back but then settled, curling around Coulson's sheet-covered shoulder.

"Years ago, when I tried to find my siblings, he did what he could to help. And when… When I couldn't find one, he comforted me. When two of them didn't want anything to do with someone from their past, he told me it was their loss. And when… my youngest brother didn't remember me…" She choked on a sob and Steve moved closer so he could touch the back of her shoulder with his free hand, mimicking Quinn's contact with Coulson. She leaned back into his touch a little. "He stayed with me in New Mexico after my accident… made sure Nat and Clint and Trip could come and visit me… He made sure I wasn't alone. Coulson's been there for me since he recruited me, made sure I got where I wanted to go. He introduced me to Peggy. I wouldn't be who I am without him." Her voice broke on the last word and when she spoke again, it was in a voice so full of grief that something in Steve's chest tightened. "How can… How can he be gone?"

Steve thought she said something else, but the words were swallowed by the now rapidly falling tears. Then, just as Steve was about to take her in his arms again—he knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, someone who was family, who you owed for more than you could ever repay, and how much simple contact could anchor you—Quinn straightened and faced Steve with a determination in her eyes that confused him. Until she spoke.

"You have to stop Loki. He can't get away with whatever he's planning, not after this. He can't take anyone else from their family." Quinn spoke with a venom in her voice that Steve never would have expected to hear from her, and though she was still crying, the sobs had stopped and her voice was steady.

It was an easy request to agree to. "We'll stop him."

Quinn stared at him a moment longer, her eyes narrowed, and then she nodded, just once. "Good."

Her shoulders dropped as she turned back to the table, her face softening. Steve watched her lean in, saw her lips move next to Coulson's ear as she said something, and then place a quick kiss on Coulson's cheek. She smoother a hand over his hair and then she replaced the sheet and headed for the door, wrapping her hand around Steve's elbow when he offered his arm; her limp was pronounced and she winced, like walking was causing her pain. He wanted to pick her up as he had at the cabin and carry her, but he settled for helping her make her way back to her bed in the infirmary.

"I'm sorry he's gone, Quinn," Steve said once she was settled.

She gave him a sleepy half-smile. "Thanks for coming to check on me."

He wanted to hug her again, or take her hand, or _something_ , but he couldn't. He did place his hand on her shoulder though, and say, "We'll find a way to stop Loki. I promise."

Quinn nodded, but her pain meds must have been kicking in, because her eyes were closed, her head tilted to one side as it was moving, and then she was breathing deeply, asleep. She'd need as much rest as she could get. Steve squeezed her shoulder and then left, headed in search of the Avengers.

They had an Asgardian to stop.

* * *

 _May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, infirmary_

Quinn had no idea how long she was out for—the drugs they'd given her certainly did they job—but when she came to consciousness again, Maria Hill was standing at the foot of her bed, her arms crossed loosely over her chest and a bandage on her forehead. There were dark circles on her eyes and the faintest hint of red around her eyes and nose that said she'd been crying, but on the whole, she looked much better than Quinn or any of the other agents in the infirmary. Currently, she was staring at the floor, a faraway look in her eyes. One that Quinn understood. Maria looked up when Quinn shifted around though and gave her a half-hearted smile; Quinn couldn't blame her, since she didn't really feel like smiling either.

Quinn maneuvered herself into a sitting position, propping herself up against the pillows, and returned the expression with one of her own. "Hey," she croaked.

"Clint's back," Maria said. "No trace of Loki's mind control left."

She cleared her throat. "Good. I'm glad. That's… something, at least. Can I see him?"

"Not until they get back."

Quinn frowned, the stitches in her chin and forehead pulling slightly. _God. They're already itchy._ She fought off the urge to scratch at the bandages. "Get back…? They followed Loki, didn't they?"

Maria's answering grin reached her eyes for the briefest second. "Captain Rogers, Stark, Nat, and Clint stole a quinjet and headed for New York—the Council is _not_ happy, but Director Fury has convinced them to wait for a bit and see what happens. Loki's target is Stark Tower, so that's where he headed when he escaped. We've already picked up signs of suspicious activity, and have reason to believe Dr. Selvig is also on site with the Tesseract. Clint said he could still remember a few details of the plan, so they might be able to stop this before anyone else dies."

Quinn swallowed and kept her eyes on her friend; if she looked at the morgue door, if she thought about Coulson… It had taken her a few hours, but she had found her way back to control. For now. There would be time after this was over for her to grieve more, for her to fall completely apart, but right now, she had to stay focused. She had to keep fighting to get back to the field, to prove herself, like Coulson had said. She wouldn't let him down.

"They'll stop him," she said, forcing confidence into her voice. She knew they'd do their very best to do just that—Steve had promised her and he didn't break his promises, Natasha and Clint never quit, and Tony Stark didn't like to give up either. And there was a lot at stake here. "They have to."

Maria watched her for a few seconds, seemingly evaluating something she saw in Quinn's face. "Do you think you can make it up to the bridge?"

"Yes. I'm not hurt bad enough to be stuck in here this time."

"And the meds?"

Quinn waved the concern away. "I haven't taken any more than what they gave me, so they're pretty much gone. I might take something to take the edge off so I can work."

Hill noded. "Come on then," she said, extending her hand. "As the agent after…" She cleared her throat. "You probably know the most about the current state of the Initiative, and you definitely know the most about each of the team, so Fury wants you on bridge. If I think you're up to it, and if you feel up to it."

Despite everything, Quinn couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of elation. "Of course I do."

Quinn took Hill's hand to lever herself into a fully upright sitting position and got her legs over the side. Wordlessly, Maria knelt and zipped Quinn's boots back on—Quinn didn't remember taking them off—and then helped her to her feet. After a second of unsteadiness blamed on the remaining drugs in her system, Quinn started walking and Maria fell in step beside her, ready to catch her.

There was a moment where Quinn felt bad about leaving Coulson; she wanted to stay with him. Talk to him about what was happening. She knew there was no point, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she shouldn't leave.

But she was doing what he wanted. He would want her to go.

Sensing Quinn's hesitation, Maria touched the back of her shoulder, offering comfort and urging her forward. Quinn nodded and moved a little faster.

Together, they left the infirmary and headed through the hall to the elevator and then up to the bridge. Quinn kept her eyes forward, not letting them or her thoughts wander to what had happened in the halls or to the marks left by the events. There were bullet holes and marks all over the bridge, bloodstains and broken bits of plastic and metal and glass. The mood on the bridge was subdued and everyone was quiet, focused on their screens and whatever other work they needed to do. Maria led Quinn to a terminal directly to the right of the helm, where Director Fury stood, unmoving and blank-faced. As she sat down, she saw a few broken arrow shafts scattered nearby from Clint and caught the lingering scent of an explosion.

 _Probably from the grenade that Coulson heard…_ she thought and a wave of sadness passed through her.

"Agent Scott."

Quinn started at Fury's voice, which sounded louder than normal in the silence. She blinked away the rogue tears that had started to form. "Yes, Director?" She looked up at him, meeting the steady gaze from his uncovered eye.

"Patch in to the Avengers' frequency and listen in. I want to know what's going on and if there's any assistance we can offer to make sure they succeed."

"Yes, sir."

"And check on Dr. Foster and the others we've got eyes on. I don't want to take the chance that Loki's going to ignore them. I don't see any reason for him to go after them, but I don't think we can predict his actions."

"Will do, sir."

"And, Quinn?"

"Sir?" She raised her eyebrows and felt her stitches pull again.

There was a beat of silence, and then: "I'm sorry."

Quinn's heart squeezed as another wave of sadness passed over her, but she managed a small nod. She wanted to say thank you or something, but the words wouldn't pass the lump in her throat, and she didn't want to cry in front of Director Fury. Not again. So, she focused on her screen, on the tasks the director had given her, until the emotion had subsided. It didn't take her long to check up on those SHIELD was watching and to find out they were all safe, and it took even less time to patch in to the frequency the Avengers were using. There was a small bit of feedback as it connected, but she wasn't trying to be sneaky.

" _You spying on us, Scottie?"_

Relief washed over Quinn at hearing her friend speak; it didn't even matter that she didn't know how he'd known it was her. "Hey, Clint," she said. "Good to hear your voice. And I'm only spying on orders."

" _Figured as much. How you doing?"_ he asked, voice softening.

"Let's talk about that when you get back, okay?" Quinn sniffed back a sob. "And you better come back. I owe you several punches for getting yourself brainwashed."

" _So Nat has informed me."_

" _Scottie,"_ Nat interjected, _"we're approaching downtown."_

"Okay. Go kick some ass, guys. I will see _all_ of you," she paused for effect, so that Steve and Tony knew she was talking to them too, "when this is done. I'm not going to say good luck, because you are all ridiculously talented and don't need it—"

" _Scottie."_

"Right. Go kick ass."

Quinn switched the radio to one way, so that she could hear what was going on but they couldn't hear her, and brought up the video feed from camera attached to the quinjet's dash. When it flickered to life, she could see the slope of the jet's nose and the city beyond—there was an awful lot of smoke billowing down the streets. Almost every other monitor on the helicarrier's bridge was showing footage from the news, from satellites, from anywhere SHIELD could get a look at what was going on, but Quinn wanted a view for herself. And—she could admit to herself—she wanted to feel just a little bit like she was in the middle of the action.

It would keep her mind off of things.

And allow her to keep her eye on her friends.

They would all come back.

 _They have to come back._


	8. Chapter 8

_May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, bridge_

Quinn had believed in aliens since she was a child. She loved science-fiction novels, movies, and TV shows, and had spent many hours outside at night, staring up at the few stars she could see, dreaming about maybe one day going to space and meeting an alien race. Her siblings had had no interest in such things, but after she'd been adopted by Jared and Margret, they'd encouraged her interest, buying her new books and movies to watch whenever she ran out. So she had developed many ideas about how the first indispensable proof of alien life would be discovered—she hoped it would be peaceful like in _Star Trek_ —but she had never thought it would be through full-scale invasion; she hadn't thought Earth had anything a race of aliens advanced enough to travel through space would want enough to attack.

But a full-scale invasion was exactly what happened.

Sure, it was at the behest of an Asgardian—who was technically an alien, Quinn realized—but when Loki's army of Chitauri began to pour from the portal the Tesseract tore in the sky…

She knew there was no going back. Not for her or for anyone.

The quinjet hadn't arrived in the city quite yet, it's camera showing the water and the bits of New York as yet untouched by the chaos, but Tony had been kind enough to bounce his HUD to Quinn's computer after he was in his new Iron Man suit, the old one having taken too much damage during the helicarrier attack and his unorthodox repair of the engine. Quinn's heart had leapt into her throat when the feed popped up on her screen to show Tony rocketing towards the portal after nearly falling to his death outside Stark Tower.

 _No harm, no foul, Scottie,_ he'd assured her.

 _Keep yourself alive, Stark._

Since Stark was now attempting to stall the flood of Chitauri and taking a bit of beating, there was very much harm and foul she decided. It made her angry to think about all the people running scared, fleeing for their lives as they tried to evacuate to safety, to think about those who were already lying dead in the streets as the aliens Loki had brought through continued to kill and destroy all in their path. SHIELD had sent a warning ahead, but there wasn't time enough to get everyone out before the aliens started coming, and those who were in the process of evacuating were still in danger. She was scared too, watching the chaos and not being able to do anything.

Quinn didn't hate easily, but she hated Loki for taking Coulson from her, and for spreading so much terror and taking so many other lives.

She felt hot as she thought about the Asgardian, her blood rushing in her ears. Her heart was pounding. She was so _mad_ —

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, her emotions threatening to get the better of her, but she was shaken out of the trance by a burst of static over her headset.

" _Thor's back on the scene,"_ Stark said, sounding a little out of breath. His HUD feed showed a few stray forks of lightning touching down near at the top of Stark Tower, probably where Loki was. _"Any word on Banner?"_

Quinn switched her feeds back to two-way and then did a quick scan of the other feeds and news outlets, looking for any mention of a large green humanoid or a naked man falling out of the sky or otherwise showing up out of the blue. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. "Nothing. Are you expecting him to come back?"

It was a second before Tony could respond as he shot a few Chitauri out of the sky. _"Hoping more than expecting. Keep tabs on it, Scottie. Status on emergency personnel?"_

"Everyone's on their way. NYPD, NYFD, and EMTs are on-site now, working in from the outside perimeter; armed forces of almost every flavour are only a minute or two out. Quinjet's almost on you."

" _Good. Took them long enough. Did you guys stop for drive-thru?"_ he asked as Nat's voice crackled over the comms, saying they were heading northeast. _"Swing up Park. I'll lay 'em out for you."_

Quinn fell silent again as she watched bullets spray across a flock of Chitauri from the quinjet's mounted gun, the aliens dropping like flies, their airborne vehicles crashing into the ground and buildings; she couldn't see any civilians here, which she was grateful for. She kept the feeds set to two-way, just in case, and did another quick scan of the news and satellite feeds. She was aware of the jet heading towards Stark Tower and aware of Thor and Loki fighting within range of the jet's camera, but with her attention only half on the main feed, she missed the shot that sent the quinjet careening down to the ground.

The crash was loud over Quinn's headset, so she could only imagine what it sounded like inside the quinjet, but that thought was secondary to the bolt of fear that shot through her, straightening her spine and closing her throat. "Guys?" she croaked.

A presence appeared over Quinn's shoulder and, without looking, she knew it was Director Fury.

The looming shadow snapped her back into professional mode. "Agent Romanoff? Barton? Captain Rogers? Report."

" _Jet's down,"_ Natasha said. She coughed, and Quinn could hear the other two coughing as the dust settled. _"Loki blew out the engines with his sceptre. We're all fine."_

 _Come home, Nat._

" _Yeah. Mostly one piece,"_ Clint chimed in.

 _Clint, you can't die._

" _Rough landing."_ At Steve's voice, something inside Quinn's chest loosened a fraction.

 _Stay alive, please. Come back…_

Over the headset, Quinn heard the ramp lower and the steady rhythm of the trio descending to ground level; the camera on the quinjet's dash showed scattered movement on the opposite side of the jet, lots of dust and smoke, and large pieces of rubble. She cleared her throat, blinked rapidly a few times. "Wh-what's the status on the ground?"

" _Multiple targets moving in, no visible civilians in the immediate area, emergency personnel headed this way—"_

Natasha's voice cut off as a loud noise somewhere between a roar and a scream sounded. The feed from the jet rattled as the sound vibrated through the air; the other feeds shuddered as well. For an eerie second, everything was silent. Through the quinjet's camera, Quinn could see nothing except Chitauri who had paused where they were or started scaling the skyscrapers. Through Tony's HUD feed though, Quinn saw what had made the noise.

It was a behemoth, a leviathan, slug-shaped and finned, with armour plating and nasty-looking teeth. It let loose another cry and the Chitauri on the ground answered, pulling off the face plates of their helmets to answer the call. More Chitauri leapt from the mammoth creature, attaching themselves to the buildings lining the street and removing their masks to howl as well. The air was full of the alien sounds for a second or two; a shiver slid down Quinn's spine.

" _Stark, are you seeing this?"_ Steve asked.

" _Seeing. Still working on believing."_ Tony spun around, the HUD feed going blurry with the speed of his movements, and then started flying parallel to the creature. _"Any word on Banner yet?"_

" _Banner?"_

"I've got my eyes out for any sign of him, Stark," Quinn said, chiming in. "Nothing yet."

" _Just keep me posted. Jarvis, find me a soft spot."_

The comms went silent as the various Avengers engaged with the Chitauri in the air and on the ground. There was an incredible amount of them. So many so that Quinn was starting to wonder how they were going to stop the tide; Banner and the Hulk would certainly be helpful. She scanned the feeds—still nothing to point to Banner's presence anywhere. Quinn wished she had a feed from Nat's or Steve's point of view as well from Tony's.

As the thought crossed her mind, a series of explosions sounded over the various feeds, and the quinjet flipped, the new angle showing a stretch of elevated road that Natasha, Clint, and Steve were currently moving down, and a small group of flying Chitauri flying overhead—with Loki on one of the flying chariots. Explosions were going off in Loki's wake, and Chitauri swarmed after him. Quinn spotted a bus full of people her friends were headed for. The trio on the bridge dispatched of the immediate threat quickly before Captain America's attention was drawn to something over the side of the bridge; more Chitauri were closing in.

" _Those people down there need help,"_ Steve was saying.

" _We've got this! Go!"_ Black Widow replied.

" _Can you two hold the incoming off?"_

" _Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure,"_ was Hawkeye's response as he primed another arrows and notched it. Quinn couldn't actually see in detail what he was doing—he was too far away—but she was familiar with Clint's motions. When the arrow flew into a Chitauri's head and set off a small explosion, she could imagine Clint's grin. Clint and Natasha headed for the bus, continuing to fend off the aliens.

Steve leapt over the side of the bridge and was gone from Quinn's sight. An explosion followed a second later and her heart leapt into her throat.

She needed to get eyes on Steve.

She had eyes on Tony, sort of, through his HUD, and thanks to the flipped quinjet, she could see Nat and Clint. Those two feeds took up half of one screen, and the entirety of her other screen was devoted to the news and satellite feeds. Hacking feeds was not something she was great at—it never had been—but it still didn't take her too long to find a security camera in the lower street that was still functional. That feed popped to life on her screen in time to show Steve fighting off a couple Chitauri from atop a police car while a few wide-eyed cops watched, stunned.

"Nice work, Agent Scott," Fury said quietly from behind her.

Quinn started—she'd forgotten Director Fury and Agent Hill were standing close behind her; she'd forgotten everything except the feeds in front of her. She looked up at the director and pressed her lips together in a bad approximation of a smile before turning back to her computer.

The cops walked away, issuing orders, and Steve rejoined Natasha and Clint on the bridge. Iron Man was dealing with the leviathan, or trying to, and Quinn was having trouble keeping up with all the feeds, and there was no sign of Banner yet—she had no eyes on Thor, but as he was a lot hardier than her mortal friends, she wasn't quite as worried, though she did still keep watch for any flashes of lightning.

Still, when he touched down beside Captain America and the others a few seconds later, Quinn felt relief.

 _Everyone has to come home._

" _What's the story upstairs?"_ Steve asked.

" _The barrier around the cube is impenetrable."_

Tony chimed in, _"Thor's right. We need to deal with these guys."_ There was an edge of panic to his voice and, since Quinn could see the massive alien creature nearby, she wasn't that surprised.

" _How do we do this?"_ Natasha asked.

" _As a team."_

As Captain America opened his mouth to start issuing orders, there was a blip on the feeds, and a rough sound, the coughing of a small engine. It was odd that it stuck out so much in the cacophony of the alien attack, but it drew the attention of everyone on the ground. Out of the smoke and dust came Bruce Banner, riding a small motorbike and looking a little worse for wear; his clothes were ragged, his hair was a mess, and his skin was covered in dirt and fading bruises. He hopped off the bike and gave everyone a sheepish look as his eyes scanned the scene around them.

" _So this all seems… horrible,"_ he said.

" _I've seen worse."_ It was Natasha. She must have seen the Hulk in action. Quinn wasn't sure she would agree that the Hulk was worse than aliens and slaughter, but she could agree Banner's other side was frightening, and she hadn't even seen it that close up.

" _Sorry."_

" _No, it's… We could use a little worse."_

" _Stark?"_ Captain America's voice was a little more confident than it had been a moment before. _"We've got him."_

" _Banner?"_

" _Just like you said."_

" _Tell him to suit up. I'm bringing the party to you guys."_

Quinn couldn't see what was happening through the quinjet's camera, but the assembled Avengers all looked up as another roar from the leviathan rattled the air. She flicked through the other feeds until she caught sight of the big alien flying toward the Avengers, chasing a red-gold streak that could only be Iron Man; on the feed from Tony's HUD, Quinn could see the ground getting closer.

" _I don't see how that's a party,"_ Natasha quipped.

"Guys," Quinn interjected, catching a lot of movement in a bird's eye view of the ground. "You've got a shitton of Chitauri heading for you."

The leviathan was now street-level and barrelling along the overpass like an out-of-control train. Cars and rubble flew to either side. Bruce Banner started to walk towards the giant. Quinn wanted to leap through her feeds. Her stomach was twisted in knots and she could feel the tears building behind her eyes; she could also feel eyes on her, probably those waiting for the distraught agent to break down.

" _Dr. Banner,"_ Steve said, _"now might be a good time for you to get angry."_

" _That's the secret, Captain. I'm always angry."_

It was a little blurry and distorted on the quinjet camera and Iron Man had flown past—he was currently in the process of turning around—but watching the Hulk take over Dr. Banner's body was not something Quinn had ever wanted to see. She'd seen videos of the Hulk in action, but there was something about seeing the average sized human man turn into the green behemoth… No, Quinn never really wanted to see that again, she was sure.

Then the Hulk brought his fist down on the nose of the Chituari leviathan and the beast stopped dead, it's body continuing its momentum up instead of forward, the armoured plates along its back snapping together loud enough to make Quinn's ears hurt, and she decided that maybe watching that transformation wasn't the worst thing. Iron Man reached the group then and let fly a barrage of missiles, the exposed meat of the leviathan igniting. Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye, and Black Widow huddled together as flames washed over them.

There wasn't a sound over the comms.

 _No, no, no—please be okay. Please be okay. Please be—_

Quinn's entire body felt as if it was being clenched in a giant fist; breathing was difficult, her stomach was in her throat, her heartbeat was loud in her ears, and tears stung her eyes. _Hold it together, Quinn. You want to be up here._

" _Cutting it a little close, Stark,"_ Natasha said, her voice a little rougher than before.

Some of the tension dropped from Quinn's shoulders. She wanted to put her heads between her knees and breathe, but she couldn't. If she showed any sign of weakness, she might be sent back to the infirmary. Coulson had… Coulson's death had spurred this action on, had gotten the Avengers to actually unite, and since he wasn't here to see it, Quinn had to be. For him, and for herself.

 _No weakness._

 _But they have to come home..._

Tony might have replied to Natasha, but the air was filled with the roars of angered Chitauri on the ground, a noise that was bolstered by hundreds more as they poured through the portal in the sky, blacking out the sun for a few seconds. A few more of the massive alien leviathans also followed.

Quinn felt a shiver run up her spine. "Guys…"

Everyone was already looking up, the group of six standing close together and prepping their weapons and themselves for the battle ahead. Quinn wished she could see them closer up, that she could see Steve's face; this couldn't be easy for him, so soon after waking up again. Although, it could also have been very easy. War was what he was used to, after all. She needed to know what everyone was—

" _Call it, Cap."_

Quinn was aware of Steve answering Tony's call to action, aware that he was issuing orders, and that the others were following those orders, but all Quinn could hear was a rushing sound and the rasp of her own breathing. Things felt more and more surreal by the second.

 _Coulson wanted this. This is what you and he were working for._

 _They'll all come home._

 _They will._

A hand appeared on her shoulder and Quinn jumped.

"Breathe," Agent Hill said, giving her friend's shoulder a squeeze.

Quinn did just that, realizing she had been holding her breath, inhaling and then exhaling long and slow. Sound came back and she gave her head a shake, refocused. She sniffed a bit and blinked rapidly to get the tears out of her eyes.

 _Don't cry, Quinn. You can stick this out until the end. They'll come back and they will all be fine._

"Are you sure—" Maria started to ask.

Quinn covered the mic on the headset. "I'm fine," she said, though the shaking in her voice said otherwise. "I need to be here. I have to see this through."

Quinn thought her friend might argue, but after a moment, Maria nodded and took up her stance to the side again, where she could see the array of feeds on Quinn's screen, but also keep an eye on everyone else. Director Fury had returned to the helm and was watching his screens closely. The air on the bridge was still tense and no one was talking above the quietest whisper. Quinn focused on her feeds again, taking in the chaos on the ground. The news channels were all showing distance helicopter footage of Manhattan, the security cam she'd hacked into had been knocked out at some point, and the quinjet cam was basically useless with the Avengers spread out as they were. Even the satellite feeds could only show so much with the air choked by dust. Only Tony's HUD showed anything in the thick of things, and it was hard to get any details since he was flying fast and definitely not in a straight line.

But still, Quinn managed to catch a few things: Thor flinging lightning towards the portal, trying to bottleneck the Chitauri in it; the Hulk rampaging across several buildings; Iron Man flying through the streets, taking out as many as he could. Hawkeye said something about them not being able to bank around corners, but the connections were getting a little fuzzy with all the interference in the air. Steve was a flicker of blue every now and again, bright among the dust and rubble.

Chaos reigned for some of the longest minutes of Quinn's life as she willed the comm channel to clear enough for her to hear something concrete. Having eyes and ears out was not going to work.

" _Captain, they've got a bunch of civilians pinned—bank—42nd—"_

Clint's voice. Not the whole story, but enough. Quinn zeroed in on a feed that was in the approximate area and caught sight of Steve running at full speed in the direction of what had to be the bank. Employing the same skills as earlier, Quinn hacked into the bank's internal security cameras; only two were still operational, but it was enough to give her a view of what was happening. A large group of civilians was trapped on the lower floor, visible through an opening, and there were a handful of Chitauri corralling them in.

Captain America came in through the window and made quick work of dispatching the aliens, one of which was holding what looked like a bomb. One did pull his helmet off, exposing his face—not that his identity was a secret or anything—and his shield got taken away, but he kept the aliens from harming the trapped civilians.

But then the bomb went off, sending Steve flying out the window into the street.

Quinn's hand on her mouse tightened until the plastic creaked. _Come on, Steve._ The bomb had knocked out both her cameras, so she went back to the satellite feeds, trying to find another flash of blue. _Where are you…?_ A tide of people, flooding into the street, flanked by pulsating red and blue police lights. To one side, a long figure—Steve.

He was okay.

 _Oh thank god._ Quinn sighed, louder than she meant to.

Maria looked at her and opened her mouth to speak, but an alert beeped, coming from the helm, cutting her off. Hill picked it up on her tablet. "Sir," she said to Fury, "it's the Council."

Quinn could hear Fury's sigh over everything else going on. She also thought she heard him mutter "Shit" under his breath before answering the call, which wouldn't have surprised her. From everything she'd heard, the World Security Council usually made things difficult and wasn't composed of the most charming people.

"Council," Fury said in greeting.

Quinn couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, since she wasn't in front of the control panels, but from the set of Fury's brow, it was not good. He dropped his voice when he responded, but Quinn found herself watching him instead of the feeds, waiting for some sign of what was about to happen—if the Council was getting involved, something was going to happen, and it was liable to be drastic. She looked back at her computer monitors for a few seconds to make sure everyone was still up and moving, and kept her ears tuned for… anything abnormal in a battle.

Fury jabbed a finger at the panel after a moment, and then turned to face Hill and Quinn. It was another second before he spoke, his voice low. "Scott, alert whoever you can on the ground. Hill, keep everyone on task and lock down the flightdeck." He paused, chewing over his next words. "The Council wants to nuke the island."


	9. Chapter 9

_May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, bridge_

"A nuke? They want to nuke New York City?" Quinn spoke before she thought about it, but thankfully she kept her voice low enough for only Fury and Hill to hear her. But it didn't matter. Everyone had tuned into the fact that something was up. A few of the other agents were leaning closer, trying to hear—it would be on the news soon, Quinn supposed. "You can't be serious."

Director Fury's eyebrows rose. "I am. We need to stop it. Give the Avengers more time to stop the Chitauri. Alert someone. _Now._ "

Quinn turned back to her computer, intending to follow Fury's orders but finding herself momentarily distracted by the scenes of violence before her. Every one of the Avengers was being overwhelmed, fighting tooth and nail to stay on top of the Chitauri horde, to stay alive. Her chest tightened and panic fluttered in her chest. But she couldn't help them. Not directly. But she could tell them what was coming, she could give them a chance, and there was only one person she was sure would hear her, despite the interference.

"Stark."

" _What is it, Scottie? I'm kinda busy here."_

Her eyes dropped to the HUD feed and found Iron Man somewhere dark, bits of something wet and reddish purple flashing in the lights from his suit. Her confusion overwhelmed everything else for a second. "Where the hell are you?"

" _Inside one of the giant aliens. Hold for just one sec."_ Tony screamed as he burst out into daylight, the sound of a crashing alien leviathan echoing behind him amidst its dying screams. Iron Man tumbled to the ground and came to a rest on his back, staring up at the sky. Almost immediately he was surrounded by Chitauri soldiers and the air was once again filled with the angry, anguished cries of the invaders. _"Oh good. More of you guys."_

"Sir, we have a bird in motion!" Hill said suddenly. Fury took off running towards the flight deck, drawing his pistol as he went. Maria pressed a finger to her ear, activating her comm device. "Anyone on deck—we have a rogue bird. We need to shut it down. Repeat—take off is _not_ authorized!"

" _Scottie, what's happening?"_ Iron Man was fighting off the aliens around him, but he sounded as if he was scrambling to keep all of them back.

"We've got a bomb headed for the city on a SHIELD jet."

" _How long?"_

"Three minutes at best. It just took off." Quinn swallowed. "You've got to take it out."

" _Right. Jarvis, put everything we've got into the thrusters."_

" _I just did."_

The view on the HUD feed sped up, the buildings on either side of Stark disappearing in a rush as he sped out of the city and towards the ocean. Quinn willed him to fly faster. The jet was off radar, either too far away or in stealth mode, so she couldn't be sure how far Iron Man had to go to reach it. She just wanted this whole thing to be over. Her back was sweating and her leg was aching and she really did want to go lie down like she probably should have from the beginning, but she wasn't leaving. Not until it was actually over.

" _I can close it!"_ Natasha's voice broke through the still-staticy comm. She sounded strained, almost desperate. Her next words came out as a hoarse scream. _"Can anyone hear me? I can close the portal!"_

" _Do it!"_ Steve.

Quinn opened her mouth to agree with Steve, but Tony cut in. _"No, don't! Wait!"_

 _Oh._

" _Stark, these things are still coming, and they're not gonna stop unless we get that portal closed!"_

" _We've got a nuke coming in, and it's gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it."_

Silence echoed down the line. There was silence on the bridge. Director Fury's footsteps as he returned from unsuccessfully stopping the jet were even subdued. Or maybe they just sounded that way because Quinn couldn't look away from the HUD feed.

Iron Man was coming at the missle from behind now, reaching out to grab it. Quinn could hear him groaning with the effort as he wrenched it off course, angling it up towards the portal. He was breathing heavily and the sound from the bomb's propulsion was intense—it must have been early unbearable for Stark. Quinn's eyes started to burn when she realized that the bomb wasn't going to get through that portal without help; if Tony let go of it now, it would correct its course and connect with New York City in spite of Stark's efforts.

Steve's mind was in the same place. _"Stark,"_ he said, _"you know that's a one-way trip?"_

Tony didn't say anything to Captain America, which kept Quinn from saying anything. _"Save the rest of the power for the return, J."_

" _Shall I call Ms. Potts?"_ Jarvis asked. Was it Quinn's imagination, or did the AI sound sad?

" _Might as well."_

Quinn muted the audio then, but kept watching the video of Iron Man speeding towards the portal and the unknown space beyond; she didn't want to eavesdrop on a private conversation, especially one that was probably going to have an emotional goodbye. There were tears on her cheeks, but she didn't care who saw, not then. Everyone around her was dead silent as they watched Iron Man's ascent from various angles and sources, fingers crossed and breaths held. Director Fury and Agent Hill were flanking Quinn again, watching the HUD feed over her shoulders. She never would have said it, but Quinn was glad they were close.

Unfamiliar stars filled the screen, dark shapes moving in front of them, and then everything dimmed as Tony passed through and all earthly sunlight vanished. Around the trio in front of Quinn's screen, everyone began to cheer—the threat of the nuclear bomb was passed New York City and they couldn't see what Iron Man was facing—but Quinn couldn't pull her eyes away. It wouldn't be a success until Tony Stark was back on the ground, alive and well.

 _Come on, Stark. You can make it back. If anyone is stubborn enough to come back from space or another dimension or whatever, it's you._

The edges of the HUD feed were frosting over, the image flickering—the Iron Man suit was losing power.

 _Come on!_

The image on the feed rose as Tony looked up, taking in the sight of an alien armada. Spaceships blocked the stars, most hanging eerily still while others bobbed about, like they were animals waiting to pounce. One ship at the centre of the horde was bigger than the others—it would have been massive close up. Iron Man let go of the missle and as the feed flickered out, Quinn and the others saw it impact the largest ship in the cluster. The explosion was big and bright and then the feed went black.

Quinn scrambled to get eyes on the mouth of the portal.

The portal began to close almost immediately. No doubt Natasha was doing what needed to be done to keep more Chitauri from coming through. But Tony wasn't back yet. The HUD feed wasn't up.

 _Come on…_

The portal snapped suddenly closed, the sky pristine where the tear had been.

For a second, there was nothing. No sign of Stark.

And then, on one feed, Quinn caught sight of something—a tiny red figure plummeting back to Earth, flipping end over end.

"He's unconscious," Quinn breathed. She hastily flipped the audio back on, fumbling over the switch a bit. "Stark! Come in, Stark! Respond!"

Nothing.

 _Come on… You have to live._

" _He's not slowing down."_ Thor. His voice cracked a bit, the comm channel still staticy.

There was an odd noise, like something heavy moving through the air—Mjolnir maybe?—and then the Hulk roared and leapt through the air, bouncing from ground to building to sky, the green behemoth easily visible on all the major news feeds. He caught Tony midair and then slammed into the side of a much-abused building before sliding to the ground, close to where the others waited.

"Is he alive?" Quinn asked, voice barely above a whisper.

" _He's not breathing,"_ was Steve's reply.

The Hulk roared again, louder than before.

Someone gasped.

" _What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."_

Stark.

More was said, but Quinn heard none of it. She took the headset off and climbed out of the chair, both her legs wobbling slightly as she started towards the elevator; her bad leg felt like it was on fire and her cheeks were soaked. Maria said something—probably asking if she was okay—as did Director Fury, but she heard neither. And since no one tried to stop her, she figured it wasn't anything important. It was time to get off that bridge.

Everyone was alive. They were all coming back.

Everyone except Coulson.

Quinn sobbed once as the elevator doors closed, and then covered her mouth with one hand to keep from making any more noise. The corridors were a blur, but she was moving on autopilot, her steps becoming more unsteady with every stride. She made it to her quarters and laid down on her bed before she passed out, all the adrenaline that had been keeping her alert and moving—gone.

* * *

 _May 4th, 2012  
_ _Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Agent Scott's quarters_

Quinn didn't know how long she'd been out for, but she had a sense that it had been a while. She looked at the screen on the wall once she was on her feet—it was just after 8:00 pm. It had been hours. And she still didn't feel right. Or rested. There was still a tightness in her chest and she felt empty, bone-weary in a way she hadn't experienced before.

 _Grief_.

She didn't want to think about it.

She couldn't think about it.

Not without falling to pieces.

No one had come to get her since she'd left the bridge, so it was safe to assume that everything has proceeded smoothly as the helicarrier descended back to the ocean—Quinn could feel the subtle rocking that meant they were no longer airborne—and made its way back to New York. The helicarrier would need repairs and everyone who had flocked to the ship would have to return to their normal postings after debriefing.

 _Let's just get back to New York without anymore surprises. Please._

Quinn felt a spasm in her chest, but she shook it off.

She wasn't thinking about it.

Without even bothering to change or brush her hair, Quinn left her room and went in search of the Avengers. They'd all been alive when she'd left her post on the bridge, but she had to see them. She had to be sure they actually all made it back in one piece. She moved as fast as she could through the halls and ignored the pain in her head, her leg, and her back. She could deal with all that later. When it was over. When it was over and Loki was gone. Then she could calm down.

Or fall apart.

 _Don't think about it, Quinn._

Natasha and Clint were the first two she found, in the infirmary of all places. Not used to seeing either of her superspy friends laid up for long, it took Quinn a moment to step over the threshold. Clint was stretched out in one bed, Natasha perched on the side by his hip. Clint was shirtless with tape over his ribs on his right side and ice packs on both his shoulders. Natasha had a bandage on her cheek by her ear and a deep cut on her lip. But they were both whole and breathing. They turned to face her at the same time, and Quinn managed a small relieved smile, some of the tension leaving her body. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around Clint when she entered the room, holding tight despite the awkward angle. He returned the embrace just as tightly.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked as she pulled back. She took up a position on the opposite side of the bed from Natasha, down near Clint's feet. Her eyes bored into his, looking for any remaining sign of Loki's control. All she saw was a slight haze from the painkillers he would have been given for his ribs. "Like, really okay? Both of you?" she added.

"Bruised and battered, but still in one piece," Clint said.

"Nothing we haven't dealt with before." Natasha reached across Clint's legs to squeeze Quinn's arm above the elbow. "How are you?"

A wave of emotion fluttered through Quinn's chest again, tightening her throat. Tears welled easily in her eyes—it was going to be a battle to keep calm until she was alone—but she didn't bother to stop them from falling. "Let's… I'm… I don't know." Her eyes flicked to the morgue door at the back of the room, but she forced them back to her friends' faces, forced her thoughts to keep from wandering to where they wanted to go most. She still had to hold it together. "Let's just worry about you getting back to one hundred percent. SHIELD will take care of… of Coulson—" Quinn paused to smother a sob "—and I'll be better once I get some sleep."

Clint and Natasha shared a look, but before either one of them could say anything, Quinn stood up and headed for the door, feeling the sudden urge to get out of there before the conversation progressed.

"I just wanted to make sure you were both actually alive," she said from the doorway. "I'll see you both later."

And then she was in the hall again, eyes open for any of the other Avengers, breath coming a little faster than before. She could feel the tears on her cheeks, and roughly wiped them away as she walked, her limp becoming more pronounced the farther she went. She was exhausted. But she had to keep it together. Just a little longer.

"Agent Scott?"

Quinn stopped and turned to face Thor, who was moving towards her. He was coming from the direction of the holding cells—probably coming from seeing Loki, Quinn reasoned, since would have been locked up there when they returned from the battle. "Thor," she said, her voice a little shaky from the crying. She leaned against the wall. "Glad to see you're all right."

He frowned as he came to a stop in front of her. "Yes, I am uninjured. The spot where Loki stabbed me has already healed. But are you all right, Agent Scott?" He brushed his own cheek with a bent finger. "I do not think those are tears of joy over our victory."

"I'm—" Quinn shook her head, wiped away the tears and sniffed. "I'm fine. Uh, thanks, Thor, for keeping me out of the line of fire earlier, when the Hulk was running around the helicarrier. It's—"

Quinn was cut off as Thor stepped forward and hugged her. She was surprised, but it wasn't an unwelcome gesture. With her arms pinned at her sides, Quinn just leaned into the warmth of Thor's chest until he stepped back, one hand remaining on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Agent Scott. The others told me what happened… what Loki did, and I am truly sorry. The Son of Coul was a good man and I am sad that I did not get to know him better."

"It's not… Thank you. He was," Quinn whispered. Her eyes filled again. _Damn it. Stop crying. Stop thinking about it._

"Do you need assistance to return to your quarters?"

Quinn's first instinct was to insist she was fine, but she knew her limp was pronounced and knew that Thor had seen it. Besides, she really wasn't fine. She couldn't stop crying. So there was no sense in pretending. "Oh, no… I'm all right to walk. I'm heading back there now." She sniffed. "Thanks though. You should get to wherever you were going. I'll—I'll be okay."

He squeezed her shoulder and gave her what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite make it there; she imagined Thor was dealing with his own pile of grief and confusion and who knew what else. Quinn remained still as Thor continued on his way, and only when she was alone did she start moving again. She didn't head to her quarters though. Someone else was closer.

The door to Steve's quarters was partly open, but instead of knocking, she leaned on the doorframe in an attempt to take some of the weight off her bad leg, and crossed her arms. Steve was standing in front of the screen on the wall, buttoning his shirt—the one he had worn when they arrived on the helicarrier the day before—as he studied what looked like a schematic of the damage the helicarrier had sustained. She stared at his back for a moment, watching the play of the fabric and his muscles beneath. After a couple seconds, Quinn knocked on the door. Steve turned and gestured for her to enter as he finished doing up his shirt.

"Hey," he said, offering a small smile.

For some reason, the expression made something inside Quinn snapped. The tears that had been welling and silently leaking down her cheeks rushed out and her shoulders began to shake softly as she cried.

"Quinn…"

She didn't look up, having covered her eyes with one hand, but the next thing she knew, Steve was in front of her, his warmth tangible, and then he was hugging her, a little awkwardly, but much appreciated nonetheless. Quinn let herself be pulled into another embrace, but this one she returned, wrapping her arms around Steve's chest and leaning into him. He held her until the wave of sadness passed. When she stepped back, he tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and gave her a small, sad smile.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn."

She didn't respond to his sympathy directly. "I'm just glad… glad you're all alive." As she calmed, she realized how messy she must look, how dishevelled. "I must look especially lovely and put together right now," she said, trying to lighten her tone and her mood.

One corner of Steve's mouth twitched. "Maybe a little worse for wear." He gently touched the skin beside the stitches on her chin with his thumb. "How do you feel physically?"

Glad for the clarification, and the excuse to focus on something other than her emotions, Quinn did a mental inventory of her injuries. "Stitches itch, leg, back, and head hurt, and I'm… I'm exhausted. I'm in pain, but it's nothing I can't handle. I'll take some Advil or something once I clean up." She ran her hands over her face and back through her hair, her breath shaking slightly with the remnants of her emotion. "I was so concerned about seeing that everyone got back in one piece that I… I didn't even stop to clean up…"

"Quinn—"

She had started crying again and couldn't seem to reign it in. The flutter in her chest was back. She pressed a hand to her breastbone. "I can't believe— I just had to be sure— You all had to come back— I couldn't—"

Steve put his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs on the sides of her neck. "Quinn. Quinn, breathe."

Quinn met Steve's intense gaze and forced herself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Again. And again. Steve kept eye contact with her until she was back in control, the danger of hyperventilation passed, then he cupped her cheek with his hand and smiled at her, a small, private gesture that helped steady Quinn. He brought her in for another, less awkward hug. Quinn tucked her arms between them and let herself feel safe for a moment. Emotions still stirred inside, but she was able to shove them back.

She could fall apart when she was home.

"Where are Stark and Banner?" she asked quietly.

"Stark went back to New York after we were debriefed," Steve said, realizing she needed something else to focus on. "He wanted to start cleaning up his tower and getting aid out to the people affected by the battle as soon as he could. He said he'd come when we saw Loki off tomorrow morning, but I think he just wanted to get away from everything for a bit."

Quinn gave a weak laugh and wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks as she stepped back from Steve. "I can understand that… He was okay though?"

"He seemed fine when he left. A little stiff, maybe. A few cuts and bruises."

"And Dr. Banner?"

"He's resting, I think. Apparently transforming takes a lot out of him."

Quinn inhaled a long breath that only shook slightly. Talking about the others _was_ helping. "I… Are _you_ okay, Steve? Really?"

He gave her another of the small smiles she was starting to like. "I'm fine, Quinn. You don't have to worry about me. Come on," Steve said. "I'll take you back to your quarters."

Steve stepped into the hall and Quinn made to fall in beside him, but her leg seized and she stumbled. For the second time since they'd met, Steve caught her before she hit the ground and set her back on her feet. "Fuck," she cursed, clasping Steve's forearms with both hands. _Don't cry, don't cry. Not over this._ "Looks like I'm going to have to go back to a physical therapist." It was meant to be said in a joking tone, but fell flat. Steve frowned, and Quinn said, "I think I need to go back to sleep."

"We're all alive and safe, and Loki's behind bars—and gagged," Steve said as they started walking again, Quinn leaning heavily on Steve's offered arm. "That's not going to change within the next few hours, and you need sleep. We all need sleep."

"Okay, Cap. Shower and sleep it is."

It bothered her that no one had come to get her for anything work related, but Quinn had to admit that sleeping some more did sound good—she wouldn't have to deal with or think about anything while she was asleep. She could just be and let the turmoil inside her do what it wanted.

 _Just be strong for a bit longer. You can fall apart soon._


	10. Chapter 10

_May 5th, 2012  
_ _New York Harbour—SHIELD helicarrier No. 64, Agent Scott's quarters_

Steve found the door to Quinn's quarters open an inch or two when he arrived in the early hours of the morning—he thought she'd shut and locked it when he'd left her there the evening before, but maybe she'd left?

"Quinn?" he said softly, pulling the door open the rest of the way and stepping inside the dim room.

At first there was no response, and Steve was almost sure Quinn wasn't there. He wouldn't have been surprised to find that was the case; being still with nothing to occupy her mind would mean she'd have to face her grief and Steve had seen the marks of her internal struggle to not do that on her face the day before. She didn't want to think about Agent Coulson's death, at least not where her grief could be witnessed. Maybe she'd gone in search of food, or gone back to cataloguing the Phase 2 bins from the base in the desert—anything to keep her mind busy.

Steve was deciding where he would look next when there was a small noise from the bed and Quinn pushed the covers down, exposing her face. He hadn't even noticed her shape beneath the blankets, she'd been so still.

She was paler than normal, the red and black of her stitches a stark contrast to her skin, and her tawny eyes dull and reddened as she peered at him from beneath half-closed lids. The skin beneath her eyes was puffy and purple-blue. The blue glow coming from the screen on the wall in the otherwise unlit room gave her a ghostly quality, and all the light he'd grown accustomed to seeing in her features was gone. She hadn't slept at all.

Quinn said nothing. Just looked at him.

A few heartbeats passed in silence.

"We're heading into the city now," he said quietly. "Somewhere in Central Park, I think. Thor wanted to go somewhere with more space to call the Bifrost, and somewhere we might not attract a crowd."

When Quinn spoke, her voice was rough and unsteady, but her lips still quirked a little when she said, "That sounds really weird coming from you."

"Bifrost?"

She nodded and then slowly rose, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She was dressed in civilian clothing—a baggy t-shirt and jeans, both wrinkled from being crammed in her bag, and no socks—and she hadn't bothered to braid her hair after she'd showered, or put her brace back on her left leg after she'd changed. "What time is it?"

"Just after five. Tony suggested there would be less people in the park if we went early, since it was close to where everything happened yesterday, though I remember the park always being busy, regardless of the time or what else had happened in the city." He leaned against the wall near the door and crossed his arms. "They've got Loki loaded into a transport, still shackled and muzzled. Thor, Dr. Banner, Agents Romanoff and Barton, and the guards who were with Loki overnight are down there as well, ready to go."

A flash of panic crossed Quinn's eyes, but it was duller than it might have been. "They're waiting on me?" She leaned forward and reached for her brace where it was sitting on the floor.

Steve crouched and picked it up when Quinn winced with her movement and helped her line it up along her leg. He watched her fasten it in place. "No. They're waiting on me. Director Fury asked if I would make sure you got home after we saw Loki and Thor off, and it made more sense to see if you wanted to come now, rather than coming all the way back here just to head into the city again. If you would rather stay here though, I will come back."

Quinn finished securing her brace and raised her eyes to Steve's. Another barely-there smile crossed her lips; it never reached her eyes. "No, you're right. That makes more sense. Just give me a minute. I want to see that Loki is gone for myself," she added, a bit of anger working its way into her words.

She pulled on and zipped up her boots and then, without thinking, took the hand Steve offered and let him pull her to her feet. He watched her closely as she gathered her things—she moved stiffly, deliberately, fastening her knives and gun belts in place and holstering her weapons as she headed for where her bag sat in the corner. It was full and waiting, probably packed in the sleepless night before. Steve took it from her hand before she could swing it onto her shoulder. She didn't protest, or even look at him, just headed into the hall, limping as she made her way to the launch bay. Steve followed close, ready to catch her if her leg gave out. Or if she gave out.

He was surprised how worried he was about Quinn. He'd known her for such a short time, only a few weeks. But he knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, and while he hadn't watched the life leave Bucky's eyes or the eyes of either of his parents the way she'd watched Agent Coulson pass, he had watched Bucky fall from a speeding train and vanish into the mountain valley below, and his mother waste away because of tuberculosis. He had seen more than his fair share of death in the war and knew how it could affect people. His father had died in World War I, before Steve even knew him. If he could help Quinn handle her loss in any way, he would, regardless of how long he'd known her. She'd been there for him since he'd woken up, and he knew she'd done things for him she probably shouldn't have.

Being there for her was the least he could do.

They finished the trip to the launch bay in silence, though Steve was acutely aware of the grimaces Quinn tried to keep him from seeing. Three vehicles were positioned facing the ramp leading down to the dock. Steve helped Quinn up into the backseat of the truck that would drive ahead of Loki's transport, and then climbed in after her. Quinn's gaze was stuck over her shoulder. At first, Steve thought she was looking at the transport, but then he realized it was the motorcycle secured in the back that had her attention.

"Director Fury requisitioned it for me," he said. It was a beautiful motorcycle: new, but made with care to look similar to the model Steve had ridden during the war, a touch Steve was grateful for. Another piece of his past life to make adjusting easier. "Though driving in the city traffic is not something I'm looking forward to."

"It's nice."

Unsure what to say, Steve fell silent.

Their truck started and headed down the ramp, the transport and the trailing vehicle following, and headed into the city. The agent driving didn't say anything, but Steve caught a few glances he threw in Quinn's direction via the rearview mirror; he stopped when he realized Steve was watching him.

New York City was never quiet, but that morning a solemn quality hung in the air, depriving the city of its usual life and vibrance. People were waking up after a tragedy, stunned to find it hadn't been a nightmare, that their homes, places of work, favourite places were destroyed, that their friends and family and the strangers they saw every day would never be coming back. That aliens had invaded Earth with hostile, destructive intent, and there was little left where they had been. The caravan didn't drive past the battleground, but Steve knew there would be SHIELD agents—and homeland security, coast guard, army, navy, whoever they could get to help—crawling through the rubble to retrieve all the alien bodies and machines in order to keep them from falling into the wrong hands. They would be working quick, to try and get repairs started and the city back to normal ASAP. There would be no stillness over the battleground.

Steve remembered the same feelings from the years before he'd flown to Europe. Hearing the incredible death tolls on both sides, and seeing it in person, left a mark, one a new generation of people in New York City, and likely the world, would share.

He looked over at Quinn. Her head was resting against the window, heedless of the vibration no doubt rattling her skull, her eyes staring out at the city without really seeing anything. Steve reached across the back seat to take her hand from where it rested on the leather and hold it in his own. She was short and had a small stature, but he'd never really thought of her as small before, not until then, when her hand seemed to disappear when he wrapped his around it.

She dragged her eyes across the seats to look at him, one corner of her mouth twitching as her fingers flexed against his in a weak squeeze. "Thank you," she said, her voice rough with withheld emotion.

"For what?"

Quinn just shrugged with one shoulder and dropped her head back against the glass, but didn't pull her hand from Steve's. Her fingers flexed against his again. Steve shifted so he could sit more comfortably and still hold her hand. He thought that maybe she'd thanked him for not letting her feel alone. Bucky had done it for Steve after his mother had passed, and Steve was glad to pay it forward.

* * *

 _May 5th, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—Central Park_

The spot Thor had chosen to call the Bifrost was a sort of courtyard, set away from the main path and blocked by the larger areas of the park by thin tree cover. The SHIELD agents who had driven the car Steve and Quinn had ridden in and Loki's transport had set up a perimeter to keep curious civilians at bay and were currently patrolling it. Loki's four guards stood in a large square around the Asgardian, two back by the low railing and two in front, all of them facing the prisoner.

Thor stood beside his brother, and Erik Selvig—Quinn hadn't even realized he'd be around for this, but he'd stepped out of the transport and given her a small smile as he'd expressed his condolences—stood nearby, the silver case holding the Tesseract in one hand. Natasha and Clint were standing a ways back, their arms crossed over their chests, and Dr. Banner and Tony stood near the sleek burgundy sports car Stark had driven in from the city. Steve had remained near Quinn since they'd climbed out of the truck and his motorcycle had been unloaded, and he was now just off her left shoulder as she leaned against the transport, trying to take some weight off her bad leg.

They'd been standing in that arrangement for only a few seconds, but it felt like ages to Quinn; she'd even remained in the truck while the agents had set up. Her body was heavy and sore and she was exhausted and she just wanted to lay down, but she wanted— _needed_ —to see Loki taken from Earth.

She needed to know she would never have to see him again.

"He will be taken to Asgard and imprisoned," Thor said. Dr. Selvig opened the case, displaying the Tesseract in a glass device Quinn had never seen before. A device for tapping into the Tesseract's power maybe? Or transporting it safely? "I must thank you all once more for your help in stopping him, and for allowing me to take him home."

"It's not like Earth is equipped to handle you guys," Tony said. "Yet."

"I can assure you he will face appropriate punishment."

Tony snorted. "Sure."

The tension escalated for a few seconds, but dissipated quickly. Tony might not have liked relinquishing control, but everyone wanted Loki gone. Thor cleared his throat and took the encased Tesseract, pulling Loki closer. The god of mischief's eyes scanned those assembled, briefly making eye contact with those who didn't look away. Quinn felt a shiver crawl down her spine when he met her gaze, the skin around his muzzle pulling as he no doubt smiled, and she leaned heavier against the transport, fighting the urge to slide out of view.

Thor cast one more look around, nodded, and extended one end of the glass case to Loki, who took it, probably because he knew he had no other choice. There was a shift in the wind, and then a pillar of rainbow light slammed into the spot at the centre of the stone courtyard, engulfing Thor and Loki and burning a beautiful, twisting pattern into the stone of the courtyard.

And then they were gone.

The Bifrost disappeared, momentarily taking all sound and air with it. Quinn was stunned, much as she'd been when she had first seen Thor use his powers. She'd spent a lot of time reading about Norse mythology and to see it come to life… It was still almost unbelievable.

The air whipped around, blowing up leaves and bits of garbage and pulling at everyone's hair and clothing. Quinn stumbled a little as the area returned to normalcy. Steve's hand closed around her upper arm, steadying her.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away, but it had sounded like that all morning. "That was something…"

"It really was," Steve agreed.

Quinn looked over to where the rest of the Avengers were saying their goodbyes. "You better get over there."

Steve looked from her to the group, squeezed her arm, and then went to join the others. Quinn leaned against the transport again and watched the Avengers shake hands, hug, slap each other on the back… A pang of loneliness shot through Quinn's chest, which was ridiculous, since she knew she wasn't alone, but her brain was stuck on the hole left by Coulson. He should have been there to see the Initiative come to fruition, to see a project he'd been so passionate about turn into a success. He should have been there to see the Avengers off. He should have been there to continue to act as the liaison between SHIELD and the Avengers.

He should have been there.

A sob built in Quinn's chest, but she managed to keep it in despite the burn of tears in her eyes.

She could see him standing next to her, arms crossed and that knowing smirk on his face, like he'd known the outcome the whole time, like his faith had never wavered once. She could imagine the look in his eyes when he turned his head to look at her, one eyebrow slightly cocked.

 _We did it, Kid. They did it. Look at them—the Avengers._

Quinn looked back at the Avengers, her friends. She could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks. Coulson should have been there.

The courtyard stayed quiet as everyone began to disperse. Quinn could hear faint snatches of exchanged words, but didn't bother to try and hear what was being said; she was more interested in just taking it all in. For her, and for Coulson's memory. Dr. Banner got into the car with Tony, and the pair of them drove off towards the city, probably back to Stark Tower; the roar of the engine startled Quinn slightly. Dr. Selvig climbed back into the transport with the SHIELD agents after they'd taken down the perimeter, and Natasha and Clint got back into the black trailing car. The redheaded assassin cast Quinn a look over her shoulder, but whether it was because she knew Quinn wouldn't want to talk at that moment, or because she needed to get in the car and drive, Natasha didn't say anything or approach. Or maybe it was because Steve was returning to Quinn's side and Natasha knew she wouldn't be alone.

Steve stopped in front of her. "Are you ready to go?"

Quinn wiped her cheeks again, and then looked up at Steve and nodded; it felt like she was moving through molasses. "Yeah." More tears leaked from her eyes. She wiped them angrily away. "Damn it…" Quinn turned and walked the short distance to Steve's motorcycle.

He touched her back before he climbed onto the bike, released the kickstand, and got it balanced. Quinn used Steve to keep herself from falling over as she somewhat awkwardly climbed onto the small seat behind him and wrapped her arms around Steve's torso. He started the bike and took off in the same direction the other vehicles had gone, branching off from them as soon as they hit the city proper. Quinn pressed her face into Steve's back and focused on the smell of his leather jacket.

* * *

 _May 5th, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—Agent Scott's apartment_

"Quinn?"

Steve's voice sounded far away. She didn't turn to look at him. Her eyes stayed glued to the dark maw of her apartment. She was afraid to go inside because once she did, once she was alone, she would fall apart, and she'd been holding it in for so long. She was afraid of what would happen to her when she let go. Steve was standing to one side, her keys in his hand and her bag on his shoulder, waiting for her to cross the threshold.

But she couldn't.

Her throat was already tight, and she could feel more tears waiting to fall. She'd balled her hands into fists almost immediately after climbing off Steve's motorcycle and had yet to release them; her fingernails, short as they were, had started to cut into her palms. Only her sheer determination not to fall apart in front of anyone was keeping her together.

Steve reached out to touch her shoulder again and she took a step back. "Please don't touch me," she whispered. "I don't think I can keep it together if you touch me."

He raised his hands like he was showing her he was unarmed. "I understand," he said.

Of course he did. He'd lost people. Quinn stepped closer to him again and faced her door once more. Steve didn't say anything else or push her to go inside. He just stood there and waited, just in case.

After another thirty seconds or so, Quinn inhaled and walked inside and stopped in the hall. Her chest constricted, like her heart was being squeezed, and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Steve followed and, keeping out of touching distance, put her bag on the floor inside her bedroom, her keys on the table in the hallway. Then he stood in front of her, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Let me know if you need anything." His voice was quiet, but Quinn could see he wanted to say more.

She tried to answer, but her voice cracked. After she swallowed, cleared her throat, she tried again. "I will. Thanks again, Steve. It's…"

"You don't have to say anything else, Quinn." He gave her a small smile.

Her lip began to quiver, so she drew it between her teeth and tried to smile back at Steve. She wanted to hug him, or take his hand in hers, or something, but she didn't want him to see any more of her emotional state than he already had. Steve walked back out into the hall and, with another look at her over his shoulder, he shut her door.

The click boomed in the silence. A sob escaped Quinn almost as soon as the darkness closed over her, the first drop through a breaking dam.

She unclenched her fists only to ball them up again around her shirt, tightening her grip on herself. The pressure felt good, anchoring, but it wasn't enough to keep the torrent inside from rushing out. Quinn sobbed again and fell back against the wall and slid down to her butt, pressing her chest against knees as tears soaked her cheeks and her nose began to run. Her bad leg screamed but she didn't care. Her fingers began to tingle from lack of blood flow but she move them. Her head started pounding in time with her heartbeat but she barely felt it.

All that mattered was that Coulson was gone.


End file.
